


Too Short to be a Siren (I'm still wary)

by shrekanddonkey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adding some tags, Adorable Tony Stark, Death of minor characters before story starts, Drinking, Fem! Harry, Firsts, Grief/Mourning, I Don't Even Know, I'll change the summary when I know how to write summaries, Idiots in Love, Innocent Harry, Multi, Running Away, Time Skips, Underage Drinking, Will add more tags as the story goes, flangst, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:14:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 75,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22227718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrekanddonkey/pseuds/shrekanddonkey
Summary: “I’m going to leave this place, Tony. And I want you to come with me.”A young, newly orphaned Tony meets seventeen-year-old Harry. They decide to run away together, if for a little while. Shenanigans ensue.OR: Don't leave Harry and Tony in a room together, they will make terrible decisions.
Relationships: Fem!Harry Potter/Tony Stark, Harry Potter/Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 1065
Kudos: 2192
Collections: Fics That I Wouldn't Mind Losing Sleep Over, Harry Potter, Harry Potter Favs, HarryPotterVerse, MCUVerse, earth’s mightiest heroes





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who's reading AIWJT I'm sorry for the delay! My laptop crashed so EVERYTHINGS BEEN DELETED im not crying its just my allergies shut up  
> But will soon finish the chapter when I get the chance! XX
> 
> For the meanwhile here's this fic, IDK i'm kinda making it up as I go along?? I dunno about this fam let me know what you think

It starts with something in most likely the Top Ten of Depressing Places. He sits on a bench in a graveyard.

It’s pretty though, looking like one of those graveyards they use at the end of some high budget Hollywood movie. Tony’s talking trimmed hedges everywhere, flowers lined up all over, up to the benches scattered around which are all painted in a bright albeit tacky green tinge. The flowers are blooming, of course, and from the far distance Tony can see a man watering a few roses next to a small grave. It leaves him with a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Well, a _deeper_ hollow pit. Yeah, maybe this isn’t the best of metaphors but sue him, English isn’t his forte.

His point is that it’s a beautiful cemetery, perfect even, and all he can do is hunch in on himself in his futile attempt to stop feeling like the only ugly thing there.

It’s the first time he’s visiting his parents.

In Tony’s head he’s trying not to count how long it’s all been since he first heard the news of the Crash (two months six days and eight hours give or take) or when he went to the funeral (three weeks and four days). It’s hard not to though; Tony feels his mind enveloped in those dark thoughts that haven’t left him in two months six days and eight hours. It’s mostly the one thought that suffocates him though. Why was _he_ drinking on the wheel, why was he _drinking_ on the _wheel_? Why. Would. He. Do. That.

Tony’s no stranger to drinking himself, having gone and done four years in college, passing with flying colors, obviously, but that’s digressing. It’s just that drinking and driving was _never_ something he would have accused his old man of, Howard was sensible, responsible, everything Tony isn’t and never will be. 

He glances at his hand holding the fancy scotch he grabbed from Howard’s office, but instead of the urge to down the whole thing he feels guilt and nerves. Like when he used to show his creations to Howard, though he knows he doesn’t have to face any potential disapproval from him anymore. Well, he _can’t_ face any potential disapproval. Wording changes after death, he realises, and like he said, _English_ , not his forte at all. Tony debates with himself for a solid five minutes and then decides, fuck it. He opens the glass bottle and brings the drink to his mouth. It’s disgusting, and that makes Tony exhale a small, bitter laugh, because of course he wouldn’t like Howard’s favorite drink. He can almost hear Howard’s disappointment in the silence that follows, but Tony ignores this. Howard isn’t who he came to see.

Allowing himself to think about his mot- about _her_ , brings a fierce ache within his gut and he has to press his palms against his eyes and try to breathe steadily for quite some time, because he already feels ugly, he’s not going to have a panic attack or worse, _cry_ , around people he doesn’t know. Then he’d feel embarrassed too, and Tony hates all kinds of public humiliation. (He’s scared to turn eighteen, when the media can print anything and everything they want. Maybe he should find a decent lawyer? He’s not sure what to do.)

After a while, he manages to hold down the guttural, ugly (like him) sob that threatens to expose itself, and when a few minutes have come and gone he gives the appearance of not having a care in the world, just a young boy on a tacky green bench.

And that’s where he is when he meets her.

“Excuse me”, a voice near him utters softly, and it immediately brings him out of his thoughts, as effective as the girl actively bringing her hand and snapping her fingers right in front of his face. And it _is_ a girl, a girl with a British, husky voice and yeah, it’s one of the hottest accents he’s ever heard. Tony should definitely hit up England more often in the future. He’ll bring Rhodey with him.

But, hot accent or not, he is _so_ not in one of those charming moods that his mo- that he would be convinced to play in those fake lavish parties, so he has no fucks to give to turn around and match the voice with the face. He prays to whatever god is out and about that she’ll take his sombre mood as a hint, and he’ll be left alone to down his alcohol in peace.

“Yeah no, not in the chatting kind of mood. Sorry, bye, ciao, in a while crocodile.”

Instead of the huff he thinks he’ll receive in response, the girl who’s literally now standing right next to him emits a gentle laugh, and he can hear the slight smile in her next words.

“I understand. I was wondering if I could have a drink?”

Tony is pure confusion for a split second until he remembers the bottle in his hand. In that moment he legitimately almost has a flashback of being a boy and screeching, ‘no! _My_ toys!’ But he also remembers Howard’s eyes, all condescending and harsh, yanking the drink from his hand. ‘A man tastes proper scotch when he’s _earned_ it.’ Well, fuck you Howard.

“Here. Knock yourself out.” He says, albeit a little reluctantly, holding his arm out so she can take the drink. He then feels a dip in pressure on the bench and internally groans and curses because f _or Christ’s sake_ , she’s sitting _right next to him_.

Tony is now thinking of the nicest way to tell someone to fuck off when the girl makes an appreciative noise and cuts off Tony’s thought process. Another reason why she must _go_.

“This is good. What is it?”

“My fathers scotch.” He mumbles, placing his face on his fist and focusing on the pretty, pretty cemetery and trying to tune her out.

“Well inform him he has good taste.”

“ _Yeah_ , _that’s_ gonna be _hard to do_.” Tony can’t help the snap, but he finds it surprisingly cathartic. Maybe he should do yoga or some shit like that. Or start meditating? He could become a Buddhist monk, he’d rock that life to a T. Provided the whole silence hours thing is a myth.

“I see.” Her tone is understanding, ironic since she doesn’t realise how little he wants her there and his hints she’s either ignored or doesn’t care for. That fuels him, he turns to her to once and for all declare that it’s his bench, she should go find her own-

And then, well. He sees her face.

He’s not one of those people who’ll give someone special treatment because of how they look. His mot- he was taught better than that. It’s just he’s seventeen, almost eighteen and he’s beginning to flirt well with girls and she looks approximately his age and she is the most beautiful person he has ever seen in his life.

Her face is heart shaped and skinny, though her cheeks are slightly round with baby fat (okay, that’s kind of adorable) which suits her delicate features. She’s got eyebrows that arch slightly, and below sits her cute small nose which is splattered with freckles. Though he’s confused with how she has _any_ freckles since she looks like she doesn’t know what the sun is, her skin has the whole Snow-White appeal going on. It’s her eyes that stand out though. They are big and bright and so very green that they look like literal emeralds. And, _okay_ , that’s not fair. No eyes are supposed to look like they’ve inspired jewellery.

It’s the look on her face that snaps him out of- he doesn’t know what- maybe a trance? An episode? - She’s looking at him like she’s expecting him to say something which means:

  * a.) He’s been looking at her for an over extending and therefore incredibly creepy amount of time



_or_

  * b.) She’s said something, and he’s proceeded to stare at her for an over extending and, you guessed it, incredibly creepy amount of time.



Neither option’s looking like the bee’s knees, but, in typical Stark Fashion, he can save himself from this awkward situation without her forming the thought that he might be a serial killer or something.

“Um. Um hi? What?”

Ah. Never mind.

The girl’s lips turn up and she gazes at him with amusement for the second time. Her voice isn’t mocking though, so he knows she isn’t coming from a bad place. That’s a comfort.

“I was apologising for interrupting your thoughts, I should’ve brought some beverages of my own. Though the age for drinking in the US is _staggering_. I suppose I don’t need to tell you that,” she breathes out an awkward chuckle, and then stands, smoothing out her jeans with one hand and holding his scotch out to him with the other. “I should be off, it was a pleasure”-

“Or you could stay?” The words come out faster than Tony’s actual thought process, but he doesn’t take them back. How can he, she’s the prettiest thing in this place. She’s managed to make the cemetery look like crap.

She eyes him speculatively. _Trust issues_ , Tony stores that in his mind. _He gets that_.

“I mean, I’m not going to down that by myself. I could _die._ And as ironic as it would be to die in a graveyard, that won’t stop the police from labelling you as an accessory to my death.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s only in situations where someone is murdered.” The girl sits back with a bemused expression on her face, and Tony is totally counting that as a win.

“I’ll let your creepy knowledge about murder slide since we’re now drinking buddies.”

She laughs as he hoped she would, and then brings the bottle back to her lips.

\-------------

It’s a little awkward for a while.

Tony doesn’t know what to say, and that’s never a thing for him anymore. He once talked a police officer into dropping a couple of charges and driving him home (and bribery was only partly involved.) The girl is at a loss too, he notices. She absentmindedly fiddles with a bracelet on her wrist, and when she gets her turn to drink the scotch she taps her fingers around the rim of the bottle as if playing a song. He can tell she’s nervous about something, so after those random few minutes of silence he decides to be the bigger person and break the ice.

“So since we’re drinking buddies, I think it makes sense if I know some stuff about you.”

Her eyebrows raise, and her eyes become slightly defensive. Definite trust issues. “Do you? Like what?”

“Your name?”

Immediately she relaxes, then sheepishly stutters out a laugh, it’s _adorable_. “I’m Harry.”

“Cute name.” What? It _is_.

“It’s short for Harriet, but I never liked Harriet. It makes me feel old.” She explains, a note in her speech giving him the feel that she’s had to explain this a lot.

“Makes sense. Everyone calls me Tony, ‘cause Anthony has the whole ‘Lord’ vibe and I don’t wanna be seen like I’d duel for someone’s honor. Or have a long beard. Something misleading.”

She flashes him a grin, though it’s too fast so Tony can’t mentally save it. “It’s nice to meet you Tony.” He notices she doesn’t hold out her hand though, and he begins to piece bits of her together. Like a non-boring, really pretty puzzle.

“Back at you, Harry. So, what brings you to this depressing area?”

The mood visibly shifts in the air and Tony could pull his hair out right then and there, because he _meant the US_. For _Fuck Sake_.

But, before he can take his foot out his mouth, she replies, steeling herself.

“My…there was recently a series of terrorist attacks in the UK, as you probably read.” He nods, because he knows about those. “Many people I knew…good friends have passed. A dear friend of mine wished to be buried near to where her parents reside, and when I managed to track them down, I found they lived a couple of blocks from here. She would have wanted to be here. I was supposed to visit her grave today, but. I’m not ready I suppose.”

Her face is impassive, but Tony knows better. He hears the quiver when she speaks and her hands gripping the bench for dear life. Tony’s struck though; he’s never met someone that is so truthful and vulnerable with their emotions, especially hearing the shit she’s been through. He thinks she’s the exact opposite of the people he met at the funeral; those sunglasses to hide their lack of tears so very different to Harry’s eyes, looking like they’re stuck in memories, in pure longing. She quickly snaps out of it, shaking her head.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump too much information onto you. I’m learning to be more open, according to others it’s supposed to be mentally healing. Really starting to think that’s a bunch of bollocks.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s ah, good that you’re trying to heal. And stuff.”

Her smile is fond and her eyes knowing. “You’re not very good at comforting people, are you?”

He smiles back, more relaxed after he’s been called out on his shit. “Nope. I’m good at jokes though, comedian in the making. Come see my future shows, though they’d mostly be made out of spite. I’d love to know my father’s spinning in his grave.”

“Father issues than, I take it?” His nod is final, hoping he’s got the whole ‘don’t push it’ air going on. Apparently, she’s not as oblivious as he initially thought. “What would he rather have had you do?”

Wait, what?

“Harry,” he begins slowly, gaging her reaction. “You know who I am right?”

Her expression is bewildered, and she openly analyses him as if searching for a familiar face. There is no realisation that magically appears. If anything, she looks nonplussed with her _severe_ lack of knowledge.

“No. Should I?”

 _Oh my_.

Tony’s been under the impression this whole time that Harry knew who he was. That’s not supposed to be arrogant, everyone knows who he is. Howard’s son, Howard’s son, Howard’s son, like that’s the only interesting thing Tony’s done and will ever do. He knows he’ll make a name for himself when he has hold of the company- he’s getting distracted. The point is, everyone he’s ever seen has known him, except her. If he’s still going with that whole puzzle metaphor for this girl, he knows there are a _lot_ of pieces to put together.

“Tony Stark. Stark? Howard Stark?” Her face is blank. The lights are on, and there’s someone home, but they just don’t read the news?

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I have no idea who you are. An actor, perhaps?”

“An _actor_ ”- he sees her start to laugh at his indignant tone, and he’s quick to let this slide. She has a gorgeous laugh. (He’s also thankful her teeth are white. _Sue him_ , oral hygiene is important.)

“Well go on.” She says, mirth in her expression. “Tell me who this great Tony Stark is. Or I’ll tell my friends I met an actor in a cemetery.”

He tells her. It doesn’t change a thing.

\------------

They talk for _hours_.

About everything. There are things they remain clear of, there is none of the honest information that Harry revealed earlier. Their chat is light, it is _ridiculously_ stupid and trivial, but Tony hasn’t smiled like this in months, in _years_ really.

(“What is your favorite color?”

“Ah, Small Talk 101”, Tony mocks her, taking a swing of the scotch and enjoying the burn in his throat.

“It is a necessary question!” Harry declares, snatching back the drink. “Think of this: someone goes up to us and says, ‘if you two are friends, what’s his favorite color?’ How disgraceful would it be if I don’t know! And then the news will publish me as being a non-real friend of _the_ Tony Stark!”

“Well, if you were a _true friend_ , you’d know instantly my favorite color, it’s called _intuition_ Hare-Bare, only the elite know.”)

He mentions Rhodey, and she talks about her ‘best mate’ Ron, though there’s an elephant in the room only she knows about, and it makes their conversation melancholy at times, but he knows she’s thinking the same about him as well.

(“So this _Ron_ , you think he could take my Rhodey in a fight?”

“Oh heavens, most likely not! Fighting’s never been his thing, though I had a- my friend, she knew all about martial art skills, she could’ve relayed information to him. That’s the amount of training Ron could possibly get.”)

(“You can build things? That’s amazing! Anything you’re proud of?”

“I mean yeah, stuff in the past I thought was alright, but. My old man, he- his standards were extreme. The solar system, the meaning of existence, then my work at the top.”

“He sounds rather hard to please.”

“You got that right.”)

They talk for hours and hours, and Tony doesn’t realise the sun has come and gone until he exhales a deep yawn. Checking his watch, he lets out a chuckle when he realises they’ve been speaking since twelve. And it’s now seven.

“Merlin!” She curses (the weirdest curse ever, but _okay_ , he digs the eccentric appeal) “I had a list of things to do today!” Her cheeks turn crimson and it’s so cute he wants to giggle. And he doesn’t _giggle_. Maybe Howard’s scotch is stronger than he had thought.

“Well, you got to speak to me today, so I say you really got the better end of the stick.” He means it as a joke, but the look she gives him is sincere.

“I really did.”

There’s a silence between them now. It’s been unspoken between them this whole time that they’ll eventually go their separate ways- but it’s out and about now, a dampener on this day. And this day- he doesn’t know what to think of it, but he’s finally smiling again, and he knows he won’t when she leaves. That- that’s unacceptable, really. But there’s nothing he can do-

“What’s waiting for you back home?” She asks him, her visage resolute, as if she’s decided to go on a mission in the last ten seconds.

His mind goes blank. “Uh, what?”

“What’s waiting for you? Apart from Rhodey, I mean.” She asks.

Tony thinks. He’s waiting just under four years until Obie has to let him take control of the company, as said in Howard’s will. Of course he has to create machinery to provide evidence of his competence so the company members won’t out manoeuvre him, but he can make a grenade in an hour and a half with a coffee break somewhere in that time, so he’s not too worried about that.

But what else?

Rhodey’s older than him, he’s got a job in the military now. And Tony knows Rhodey, he knows his ambition, that Rhodey wants to be a commanding officer at _least_. That means rare visits to Tony, Tony worrying sick about him at Howard’s house that hasn’t been his home since his mothe- since the Crash. So what’s Tony expected to do? Had he never met Harry Tony knows he’d be in a drive bar somewhere, getting so drunk he’d wake up on a sidewalk in the middle of nowhere. It’s not what he wants, he wants something else _so bad,_ but he’ll never know what, and that burns more than Howard’s alcohol lodged down his throat ever will.

But Harry’s looking at him with an expectant and an oddly hesitant look on her face, so he has to reply honestly.

“I don’t know, Harry. I really don’t know.”

For the first time, Harry scoots over to him and gently nudges him with her elbow, peering at him with trepidation. She looks so brave.

“The UK- it’s not safe for me right now. The attacks have ended, but there are still people there, bad people. I’ve essentially been kicked out of where I live, and I _know_ it was for my own protection, but.” She bites her lip, her mind somewhere else. “I don’t know what to do with myself. And I know you don’t either.” Her gaze is intently on his face, searching for something, Tony doesn’t know what. But his stomach is lurching in anticipation, and he knows what she’s going to say before she even says it.

“I’m going to leave this place, Tony. And I want you to come with me.”

\-------------------

Rhodey calls him the next day after Tony’s crashed in a hotel room. His speech is angry and shrill, but Tony can hear the slight strain in his voice and feels guilt swell up in his chest. He hates worrying his brother, and the past couple of months have basically been a buffet of negative emotions on his part. He should buy Rhodey a house somewhere soothing. Or he could totally talk him into joining him as Buddhist Monk Brothers in the future.

“Tony, where have you _been_? I was _so close_ to calling Obie.”

“It’s a long story Gumdrop,” Tony evades, and he knows it’s pointless because he needs to tell him, but, well…. Tony doesn’t know how to word this.

“Did you drink again? Tell me where you are, I’ll pick you up.” Muffles in the background start. Tony knows Rhodey’s getting ready to head out his apartment. Tony also knows he doesn’t deserve Rhodey, especially now at what he’s going to say.

“No, no Rhodey. You don’t need to.” There’s a pause, Tony gathering his courage. “I’ve met someone.”

“Oh?” Rhodey’s clearly been taken off guard. “Want me to pick you up from theirs?”

“No it’s not like that. Well, actually, I don’t really know _what_ it is. But we got to talking, and, well this is kind of crazy. And that’s coming from _me_. We’re leaving town for a while, Pumpkin. We’re going to drive anywhere, see sites, the whole shebang. Like Bonnie and Clyde, except without that criminal speedbump- well actually, scratch that, I mean I’m feeling unpredictable lately, and I don’t really _know_ Harry”-

“Tony.” Rhodey’s voice is armed with steel, and that makes him cringe. “I don’t think I’m hearing this right.”

Tony brings nervous laughter to the slowly deteriorating conversation. “One year in the army and already you have hearing problems, want me to make you hearing ai”-

“No, Tones I don’t understand. You’re leaving town? _When_? Who’s Harry?”

“Keep up Platypus”, he says, more nonchalant then he actually feels. “I met Harry yesterday, we talked, we drank, we decided the world is pissing us both off mutually so we’re doing a ‘Fuck You’ to said world. Harry will be here soon and we’re driving off somewhere for a couple of months. Preferably somewhere with sun, you know I tan like a champion”.

There’s silence between them on the phone, Tony can almost see Rhodey mentally taking in the information. Finally, Rhodey speaks.

“I really don’t think I heard your story right.”

Maybe Tony should have written him a letter?

He sighs. “ _Rhodey_.”

“ _Tony_. You’re telling me you’ve decided to haul ass with someone you _barely know_?! You’re leaving everything behind to go _God knows where_?!”

“The long version is _slightly_ more understandable, I’ll give you that”-

“This isn’t _funny_ , Tony! You’ve made a lot of stupid decisions, but this one takes the _fucking cake_.”

It’s Tony’s turn to get angry. “I’m not moving permanently to space, Rhodey! It’s a few months at most with this girl who you’d love, Bubble-gum, she’s awesome”-

“ _Tony_! Do you not hear yourself right now?” Rhodey thunders through the phone and Tony allows himself a small wince. But he’s not going to be pushed around about this, not when he knows he _has_ to do this.

“What should I do then? Obie has the company for the next _four years_ , what do you expect me to do? Sit around? Make _pottery_?”

“I- we all expect you to make your father and _mother proud_ ”-

Tony hangs up on him.

Rhodey calls him again two minutes later. Tony almost doesn’t hear the ringing of the phone through his shallow and heavy breaths, and when he picks up the device, his hands are shaking.

“I’m hanging up if you tread on my toes again, Rhodeo.”

Rhodey sighs, a sound frustrated but resigned. “I’m sorry, Tones. I-I don’t really understand why you’re doing this but- but if it will honestly make you happy- I need you to be happy, Tony. I just need to know- are you thinking rationally? Is this really what you _want_? You say the word and I pick you up, just give me your address, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Tony hears the honk of a car from outside his hotel. He goes to the window and finds a black corvette sloppily parked, and out comes Harry. She’s wearing a red leather jacket (red’s her favorite color, see Harry, _intuition_ ) with black jeans, a white top, and boots. She looks _awesome_ and ready to leave. And so is Tony.

It’s amazing how one person can get him to stop thinking about all the shit going on in his head and out, if even for a second. She’s like some kind of siren, except he knows she’s not going to hurt him. Tony thinks he can trust her, and he doesn’t understand why but he’s going with it. He’s feeling nervous and excited and _reckless_ , and by the faint outline of Harry fidgeting and tapping her foot, he knows she’s feeling the same way. Unintentionally, the corners of his lips jerk up.

“I’ll send you postcards.” Are all Tony murmurs into the phone before he hangs up. He takes his packed bag and walks out his hotel room, unaware of what he is walking into.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Harry's like what am I doing?? And Tony's all like just go with it woman and now you don't have to read the chapter anymore your welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am AMAZED by the response to this fic!! I have no words?????? Just THANK YOU!! I honestly don't know what to say except you're all beans and I don't deserve you in the slightest
> 
> I'm sending you all hugs, feeeel theeee huuuuuuuuggggggsssssss. Unless your not a hugger than feel my nooodddd of appreciationnnnnnnn
> 
> We get some Harry POV, just Harry being shook by Tony for 5k words
> 
> Also any Miranda lovers: spot a scene I was inspired by there! You'll know the one lmao

If Harry strains her ears, she can almost hear Hermione’s protests for her current life choices.

It’s not that Harry feels any regret whatsoever for what she’s doing, it’s just that she understands, that, from an outsider’s perspective, this might be a tad _barmy_.

But, in her defence, this wasn’t part of her agenda. She had gone to the graveyard with the hope that she would perhaps toughen up and face her sister- well, if Hermione’s name inscribed on stone constituted much of the actual person- Harry won’t get into that thought process again. That would dampen her mood, which would be a shame really, because Harry finds herself embedded in so many emotions and none of them are currently on the negative side.

She doesn’t know what to make of Tony.

Not that she’s _wary_ of him, she’s not. Well, she was a bit at first, it’s unfortunately something the Wizarding World has ingrained in her so thoroughly, this lack of trust from anyone that isn’t her family. But Tony doesn’t appear to want anything from her apart from some companionship and that’s. That’s _warming_.

In fact, Harry cannot read Tony the way she usually does with those she comes into contact with. The boy in question is currently staring out the window of the corvette as she drives, his sunglasses reflecting the open road, and his face is relaxed. There’s so much Harry wants to say to him (thank you for doing this thank you for saying yes thank you for being in this car right here right now), but she finds that if she did try to say all of this she would burst into tears in sheer relief of his presence. That would frighten anyone away, including Harry. She grips the steering wheel tightly to ground herself in the moment. Briefly turning to Tony, Harry gives him a smile.

“I’m surprised you did this.” Her voice comes out incredibly soft, showing her sincerity. Tony gives her a surprised look, like what they’re doing isn’t something he’d thought they’d actually discuss.

“Yeah, well, you know me, I can never refuse a pretty lady.” He gives her a sly wink with a cheeky grin(Harry finds it rather charming, because it fucking _is_ ), but Harry isn’t stupid. She knows he’s avoiding any serious discussions, and it’s actually a relief. Harry doesn’t know what she would’ve done if Tony replied with some philosophical response. She bites the inside of her cheeks at that thought, because she’s known the boy a day and knows for an absolute fact that if he’d started sprouting philosophy she’d check for a temperature.

“Ooh is that a smile? She’s smiling five minutes in, this trip’s gonna be _fun_.”

“Oh, you don’t know that. This could be extremely boring. Perhaps I’ll take you to a _tea convention_. Imagine that, Tony, us sitting around and drinking _tea_.”

“You’re hooting your own British stereotype horn there, Harry-Warry-Woo. And who knows, maybe I _love_ tea. Maybe that’s why I went off with a Brit, my goal is to get in those tea conventions the UK’s been holding out on us Americans.”

“I have yet to understand your thought process.” Harry muses (Harry-Warry-Woo? Oh _dear_.) She’d pay money for Ron to be here, he and Tony would get along like a house on fire.

She’d pay money for Ron to be here for a lot of reasons- no, no not there, back away from the Black Thought Hole, Potter.

“You’ll get used to it, you’re kind of stuck with me for a while.” Tony says with humour, but there’s an edge of caution in his tone, as if she’ll decide to sack the whole road trip off. When it was _her idea_.

Tony doesn’t think very highly of himself, she notes, which is irksome. So far there’s been nothing about him she doesn’t like (apart from his low self-esteem, of course), and even if there was, his positive traits are overwhelming.

In her most sincere tone, she replies. “Good. I am happy it’s you. Yeah?”

She knows she’s being rather intense, but Tony needs to understand that he’s not some sort of burden, like a piece of luggage that should currently be in Harry’s trunk. He is infinitely better than that.

From the corner of her eye, she sees him give her a brief glance, a slight freeze in his posture. He turns back to the window, a subtle clench in his jaw.

Fuck. Harry didn’t mean to make this awkward. She quickly turns on the radio in the car, relieved when Tony perks up from whatever state she threw him in. He recognises the song playing, and starts singing along, taking off his sunglasses and using them as an apparent microphone. He’s lost in his own world for a bit, then turns to her with a sloppy grin.

“Come on Hare-Bear, sing it with me.”

She flashes him a careless shrug. “I would, but I’m afraid I don’t know the song.”

As soon as she says this, Tony switches off the radio. “Say it isn’t so.” His face is morphed into mock betrayal, one hand over his heart. He does seem quite genuine in his confusion, though.

“It is indeed.”

“Harry! It’s the Final Countdown!” When her expression is set in stone (because what, she doesn’t know what that is, is that bad?) he continues. “Doo doo doo doo”, he sings in a high-pitched voice to the beat of the song she vaguely remembers hearing five minutes ago, as if Harry will suddenly smack her head and go, ‘Oh! That song! How silly of me! I didn’t remember it when it was playing, but you singing it takes me back to when I saw them live!’

Her face shows no familiarity. She’s taken back to yesterday, when Tony looked like a bird had shat on his shoulders due to her not knowing who he was. He’s utterly ridiculous, it’s rather sweet.

“Harriet, Harriet, Harriet. So much I have to teach you. That’s not even the good stuff. You heard of AC/DC? Led Zeppelin?” The next words are stuttered out like he’s genuinely pained. “Black Sabbath?”

“Well, now you’re just saying _words_.”

His shock is real, and Harry honestly feels bad for a solid second, before she remembers she doesn’t know much about music, she hasn’t just sacrificed his first-born _child_.

“I’m legitimately tempted to jump out of this car.”

“Ah, best do that when we’re off the motorway”-

“ _Or_ maybe we should go to your hometown? How far away _is_ the rock you lived under?”

Harry blindly throws whatever she can reach at him (“Ooh Harry look! Gum!”) and after that, it’s not awkward at all.

\-----------------------

The hotel they stop by is a bit bland looking and saying it’s dingy is polite, but Harry’s hungry and tired and is worried Tony’s going to catch her in her increasingly bad mood before she can eat and sleep, which is not something someone who’s known her for almost two days should have to see. In said past two days she’s started to care about this boy’s opinion, she doesn’t want him to see her and think, ‘woah! High maintenance’, especially since she can actually imagine him voicing that thought to her. There’s also the chance that he could leave, and that’s- no, no she doesn’t want that. Not at all.

“This is joyous,” Tony walks into the reception area as if he owns it, looking at the décor surrounding him with a slight grimace. In all fairness, the walls are coloured an ugly shade of pink. Harry’s reminded of Umbridge, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth as she swallows. “Wow,” Tony looks around, probably noticing that all the people nearby are over the age of seventy, at _least_ , “had I known there was a festival in this hotel I would’ve arrived sooner.”

“I hope no one can hear you.” Harry says to him, though she says it half-heartedly. “Waiters can spit in their customers food and drink. What’s the equivalent to that in a hotel? Pissing on the beds?”

Tony’s snort is _loud_ , and everyone who’s lounging about in reception turns to give him different facial expressions that all translate to ‘shut the fuck up.’ Harry gives his arm a good flick while he tries to pull himself together, Harry herself attempting to reign in her hysterics.

She doesn’t even find her joke particularly funny, but she’s never met someone whose laughter is this contagious.

“We should do fake names.” He whispers into her ear, unknowingly sending tingles that drift down her spine into the formation of goose bumps. Odd. “Like we’re spies or something. I’ve always thought about the James Bond life being for me, so since I’m now friends with an _actual_ English person my goal has actually gotten _pretty legit_.”

“Now hold on a minute.” Harry won’t even unpack Tony’s statement, it’s more than what Harry and Tony have in the trunk _combined_. “I’ve heard of the premise for James Bond”-

“Of course you haven’t seen it”, he groans aloud, looking at the ceiling in dismay.

-“But I know that if I’m not James, I’m just the girl he has an affair with and is never heard of again.”

“Oh no, no no”, Tony amends, his voice dripping in sarcasm. “You’re totally Moneypenny.”

“Is that a _person_? Is that a _good thing_?”

“Sorry Haribo. Only the people who’ve seen James Bond can answer that, whoops, my bad.”

Before Harry can give him a smack (a gentle one of course, Harry’s not an _animal_ ), the receptionist sitting at the front desk clears her throat, a forced and suspicious smile on her face. Harry does realise that she and Tony have been standing in the middle of the area for quite some time, but she still finds herself unnecessarily annoyed by the woman’s disruption.

“May I help you two?” The woman is old and has glasses that rest on the tip of her nose, as if she wants people to believe they shouldn’t fuck with her. Her assessment of the woman makes her frown. Harry should stop making assumptions, she can’t judge someone before she knows them.

“Yes,” Harry begins breezily, walking with Tony by her side to the reception desk. “We were wondering if we could have a room?” She immediately regrets the words as they tumble out of her tongue, because she would never want to force someone to share a room with her or assume that is what anyone would want. It’s just cheaper this way. It _is_.

Next to her, Tony remains still, like he’s not shocked by her suggestion. Maybe her stress has simply been her projecting.

“ _One_ room?” The woman raises an eyebrow, looking at them through her glasses as if they’re being ridiculous, or scandalous, or something completely untrue. One of her eyebrows is raised in silent judgement. It makes Harry’s hackles rise, and she remembers why she’s not a fan of talking to strangers. Tony made her forget that, it seems.

“Yep,” Tony says, staring at the old, rude, receptionist with a charming and winning look on his face. His eyes are guarded though, not like today in the car, when he was talking and laughing and singing with Harry. It’s an unwelcome change, but it makes Harry feel better in knowing he’s on the same page as her about the lady at the desk’s self righteous attitude. “You see, the Mrs and I’ve been travelling all day, and sadly she lost her ring in the sink of some gas station. It’s all very dramatic, I’d hate to bore someone as busy as you with the details.”

The woman stares at Harry in consideration, who stares wide eyed back at her, not expecting that at _all_. Tony lunges on his side to the left of Harry, arm distance, she notices, most definitely avoiding another flick on the arm.

 _Whatever_. Two can play at that game.

“Yes,” she mumbles. “It’s been a hard time. Especially since the old Ball and Chain over here has been telling everyone about the ring _fiasco_ like it’s some trivial gossip!” She death stares Tony, whose mouth is slightly agape in surprise. He snaps it shut, his eyes beginning to twinkle.

“Well, _darling_ , it hurt me as much as it hurt you. Maybe even more.” He points at Harry while looking at the receptionist, who is currently watching them like a game of tennis. “Took me _two days_ to find her the first, what I _thought_ was perfect ring. Guess what? She doesn’t like it, says there are too many diamonds. Takes me another _four weeks_ to find one she’ll love. And where does it go? Down some gas station bathroom”-

“I think we’ve discussed this quite enough.” Harry hastily interrupts when she sees the accusatory stare the receptionist has aimed her way. She might be having _way_ too much fun creating utter crap, but she is _not_ sleeping in the car tonight thank you _very much_.

“Yes dear.” He replies, giving the woman at the desk a look that screams, ‘what can you do?’

 _Oh_ , she’ll tell him what he can do-

“Your names please, to check in.” The woman asks Tony (giving her the cold shoulder, how did this _happen_?) so Harry tries to get back into her good books.

“I’m…Mary,” Harry says, not giving up the Unspoken Bullshit Challenge just yet, and cautiously giving out her hand for the woman to shake. She tries not to outwardly scowl when the woman shakes it, she doesn’t like to be _touched_ , and wonders if she perhaps shook her hand too hard? She now feels incredibly awkward. She hopes Tony will say something that will ease her state of mind.

“And I’m Joseph.” Tony declares, also shaking the womans’ hand, a victorious expression on his face.

Harry wants to sink to the floor.

The woman gasps, the first real emotion she’s seen from her all night. “No way!”

“Way.” Tony solemnly confirms. “I know what you’re thinking- too good to be true.”

“Isn’t it?” Harry says, smiling through gritted teeth.

“Imagine our shock when we met!” He exclaims, ignoring Harry’s comment. “When we met I thought she was- what’s that British expression? Pulling my leg?”

“Some people deserve a leg pulling once in a while”, Harry says, matter of fact. “Or perhaps just a leg kick?”

“But as we continued talking, I just _knew_ it was fate that intervened.” Tony is looking at the lady with so much seriousness that she’s surprised he isn’t in fact an actor. “And when the time comes for us to have a baby- well, we’re not exactly buying any baby name books, if you catch my drift.”

The receptionist and Tony share a heavy look, and Harry wants to melt into a puddle.

“Anyways”, Harry interrupts their- whatever just happened, and gives the receptionist a tight-lipped smile. “Me and…Joseph, were wondering if we could have a room for tonight. Two beds, please. We’re having marital issues, if you couldn’t tell.”

The woman looks at Harry condescendingly. Like Harry is insignificant, something that she could easily find at the bottom of her shoe. It’s not that that angers Harry, it’s the way she smirks in response to Harry’s question, as if she can easily fix Harry’s problems. It slightly reminds her of people she met after the war, people that would ask her personal questions right off the bat, as if it was in their complete right to know that kind of information. It’s unnerving and makes her visibly bristle, though she knows it’s her own fault the receptionist made her feel like that in the first place.

The receptionist types on the keyboard on her desk, staring at the computer’s results at whatever she’s found. She scans the computer, then scans Harry. Her eyes are sly.

“I’m afraid all our rooms with two beds are full.” Harry knows the bitch is _lying_. She should definitely stick to her gut more often on the basis of first impressions.

“Are you sure about that?” Harry asks, though it comes out as a demand. Beside her, she can feel Tony’s amusement.

The receptionists’ face is grave, what complete and utter _bollocks_. “I am sorry for the inconvenience. It’s room sixteen on floor three.” She makes to hand Tony the keys to the room, but Harry snatches it from her withered, clammy palms, not caring for the woman who now looks down right appalled. She turns round and walks up the stairs to their room while Tony pays for it. She'll pay him back later, she nods to herself, she just cant give that woman anything else, she would see it as a waste of time.

“You okay?” Tony asks her once he’s caught up with her and they’re out of earshot, his amusement gone entirely. He sounds a bit wary, and that adds guilt to her anger.

“I’m fine,” she snaps. She then turns to Tony, though she doesn’t look at his face in fear of any the respect he had for her go out the window. She sighs, all her anger swiftly leaving her body. “I’m sorry, it’s not you. I just can’t stand _nosiness_. People prying in our lives, even if it’s not real, it’s just…it pisses me off.”

When she finally has the courage to look at Tony, he peers seriously at her, his eyes knowing. “I get it.” He mutters, his gaze piercing. “I get that a lot. Stark, remember?” She nods, because from what she’s heard, Tony’s as famous as she is. They’re very similar, she notes, they just come from different worlds.

“How could I forget?” She manages a small smile for him, and that in turn makes him smile again, though his eyes are sad. Harry feels terrible that she made him look like that.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” Harry tells him truthfully, hoping they can put this behind them. They were having so much _fun_.

“You’re gonna have to say a whole lot more to hurt my feelings, Harry- wait, I don’t know your surname, what’s your surname?”

It’s funny that he doesn’t know. Two days and he never needed to know the complete name of his runaway mate. She could lie to him, but she wants to treat him with the respect he deserves, something that awful receptionist didn’t have the courtesy to offer her.

“It’s Potter.” She shares. Harry feels laughter bubble up in her chest when he gives her a look of actual excitement.

“Potter?! I’ve been calling you Hare-Bear when your surname is _Potter_? You’ve been holding out on me Potter. You know I’m saying that all the time now, right. Potter, Potter. Harriet Potter.”

Nothing more’s said about her anger, but Tony acts slightly different after that. Not negatively, but more at ease, like he’s found something about her that he understands. They enter the hotel room after the surprisingly long stairway, and stare at the scene that’s unfolded in front of them: roses scattered all over the bed with red curtains patterned with tacky hearts, bottles of champagne on either side of the bed placed on red desks. On the bed, instead of normal, _human_ pillows, the ones they’ve been given are in the shape of hearts. It’s a honeymoon suite, she realises, dumbfounded. Turning to Tony, they look at each other for a long five seconds in mute shock, and proceed to burst into heavy laughter, Tony falling to the floor.

\---------------------

Tony’s gone to take a shower.

That’s not a bad thing, it’s good. He even asked if she wanted to go before him after they ate dinner, very gentlemanly, so it’s good to know he’s both kind _and_ hygienic. It’s good. Hygiene is very important, it’s good to know Tony won’t let her down in that regard, so, yes, that’s good. Great. Fantastic.

It’s just that Harry is now thinking, and consequently that’s leading to some stress. Because Tony didn’t bring any clothes with him to the bathroom, which means that Tony will come out of said bathroom in nothing but a towel.

It is possible that Harry should have at least _considered_ on a deeper level that travelling with an incredibly handsome boy may not have been the _best_ of ideas.

She has to chuckle to herself though, because the one time she’s been rethinking running away with essentially a stranger is when she’s realised she might see him half naked.

Yes, Harry knows she’s a bit of a mess.

She drums her foot against the floor, not knowing what to do with herself at this current moment in time. When packing she forgot to bring a book, so she ends reading the ‘do not disturb’ sign over and over again, tracing her fingers around the letters slowly. Eventually, she realises what the sign could be used for, thinks of Tony in the shower, and blushes for an unreasonably long amount of time.

This is nothing compared to when the boy in question comes out the bathroom.

In nothing. But. A _towel_.

 _Fuck_.

“I didn’t use all the hot water”, Tony says, sauntering to his suitcase like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Harry averts her eyes out of respect, staring at his face and nothing more. She feels rather proud of herself for every second her eyes don’t stray, if she’s being truly honest. “So the shower’s all yours,” Tony continues, unaware of Harry’s internal predicament. “Unless you’re not into the whole, cleaning self-thing. Which, um, gross, but I’ll get used to it- are you okay?” He frowns. “You’re looking kind of sick.”

“Oh, um, no, no. It’s just very hot in here. Warm! I mean warm. Very toasty. Is there air conditioning in this room?” Perhaps Tony’s rambling is contagious.

“Oh, right.” He goes to the air conditioner when he spots it, noticeably, still in his towel. Was there no robe in the bathroom? Should she request one from a member of staff? He begins to inspect the conditioner, a curious look as he fiddles with the machine hooked in the wall. “Meh, not a great mechanic system. Give me time and I could totally make it better, I’m talking different levels so it can emit different blast strengths. You reckon the hotel would mind if I reworked”-

It’s not that what he’s saying isn’t interesting (like yesterday, she’s struck once again by his intelligence, his mind is _fascinating_ ) it’s just that he’s talking. Still half naked. She’s seen this before (of course she knows what a male body looks like), it’s just that this is _Tony_. He’s the prettiest man she’s ever seen.

Does he not realise? Has it not crossed his mind? Did he not pack clothes?

“Harry?” He looks concerned, and that makes her feel _awful_. He’s one of the kindest people she’s ever met, and she’s trying not to…ogle him, like some piece of meat!

“You sure you’re okay? Want some water of something?”

“Oh, no I’m so sorry. I just need to- to shower- that’s. Yeah. I’ll be better after my, my shower.

He gives her a slow nod and then an odd look when she all but sprints to the shower. Once she’s inside and has locked the bathroom, she leans against the door, realising that she is quite and utterly fucked.

The soap is in the shape of a love heart though. So that’s nice.

\---------------------

When she comes out of the shower, she finds Tony in the midst of a nightmare.

He is shaking and moaning, and he clutches the sheet on his lap for dear life, sweating and looking so utterly afraid that her heart plummets down her to meet her stomach. Seeing someone in pain has never sat well with her. She’s reminded of Hermione telling her about her ‘saving people thing’, and scoffs at that thought, because she couldn’t save her, could she? She couldn’t save anyone.

But this isn’t about her, it’s about Tony. He’s suffering, and he’s afraid and all Harry can do is go over to the chair he’s apparently sleeping on.

“Tony”, she whispers, gently shaking him on the shoulder. When he doesn’t respond to that, she shakes him slightly harder. “Tony.”

He’s getting increasingly panicked, which is certainly not good. She finally uses some force, shaking him with much more strength and he wakes with a jerk, his eyes widening in shock and a scream so agonised shooting through the air. He looks around him in confusion, leaning further back when he sees Harry. He doesn’t recognise her for a split second, and when he does, his eyes go bright, and his voice is hoarse.

“Sorry”, he whispers, looking away from her, embarrassed. She places her hand gently on his shoulder, unsurprised when he forcefully shrugs it off. Harry’s not offended, this isn’t about her.

“Don’t be sorry”, she whispers back to him. No one else is in the room with them, but she knows first-hand that speaking loudly will ruin any peace he might have at this moment. She backs away from him, knowing he needs space right now. She sits on the edge of the bed, uncaring that she is probably sitting on a thorn from the roses right about now.

For a while there is silence, Tony’s chest rapidly rising and falling. He’s not having a panic attack, but Harry knows at this rate he’ll get there, so she begins to talk.

“Did I ever tell you about the time Ron threw up all over my teacher’s shoes?” She begins, still whispering though. She won’t make him flinch with normal volume, she refuses to do that to him again.

He shakes his head vigorously, still inhaling and exhaling at a pace that is alarming. “Ca- can you tell- tell me abo- about it?” He asks breathlessly.

“Well, it was at a school event, the Yule Ball. It’s essentially a prom at my school, and. Well, Ron was jealous that Hermione, my friend, was with another boy. He also didn’t like my date, Cedric- though that’s because Ron is very protective of me, a whole different matter. Anyways, Ron is _sulking_ away, like a child having a temper tantrum, while Her- Hermione is dancing with this gorgeous man. And Ron has these- well he _had_ these two brothers, who felt bad for him so gave him copious amounts of fire whiskey, an _incredibly_ potent drink. Two hours later, and Ron throws up all over my _terrifying_ teacher’s shoes. Ron had to clean all of Snape- my teacher- all his shoes for the rest of the school year. Now whenever Ron sees fire whiskey he has this facial expression. If you could see it Tony, you’d laugh _hysterically_. I wish he was here now, I know you’d just laugh and laugh.”

When she finishes her story, her heart hurts and she wants to cry very much, guilt hanging in the air like foreboding rope. But Tony’s breaths are normal now, and he’s looking at her with such vulnerability that it steels Harry. How can she cry, when she needs to be strong for her friend?

“I can’t wait to meet him one day.” He says, his eyes glistening, though she knows he’d be embarrassed if he realises that.

“You will. Provided you don’t tell him about what we’re currently doing, he’d have a _fit_.”

He shakily chuckles, lifting himself slightly off from his chair. That leaves Harry frowning.

“Why on earth did you fall asleep on a chair?”

Tony shrugs, still not himself again. It pushes Harry to say what she does.

“Get on the bed. You’re mad if you think I’ll allow you to sleep on a _chair_.”

His voice is strained. “Nope, then where’re you sleeping? I don’t mind the chair.”

“I mind.” Her tone is not up for debate. Tony and her have a staring contest, before Tony sighs in defeat and shakily gets up, plopping himself on the bed as soon as she’s taken all the roses off. He looks wrecked and numb, so Harry abandons all sense of decorum when she lies down with him.

“Wha- what you _doing there_ , Harry?” He asks in a high pitched almost squeak. Under any normal circumstances that would amuse Harry greatly.

“I’m going to bed. Unless you want me to sleep in the chair?”

“What? No! Of course not. This is good. This is great, it’s, ah, nice.” She places her head on his chest, and he must still be scarred from his nightmare, because his heart is beating very quickly. Tony shouldn’t worry though. Harry will protect him. It’s a melodramatic declaration, she knows, but why sugarcoat her thoughts with an understatement? She’ll protect him, and that’s that.

Cautiously, Tony’s arms wind around Harry, and Harry further burrows her head into his chest. He’s wearing a pyjama shirt, she notes, but Harry wouldn’t have actually cared had he still been in his towel. That is not her main focus anymore. Eventually, Tony relaxes into his position, his arms slightly tightening around her and his legs intertwining with hers. It’s lovely. She could get used to this, though she knows it’s just for tonight.

“Thank you”, he mumbles to her just before she completely drifts off, her arms wrapped around him in her own brand of protection and comfort. And, for a brief second before she’s completely lost to unconsciousness, she feels his head dip down to meet the top of hers, lips pressing gently into her hair. And that’s that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What yall think?? The ending was cheesy but i dont care everyone knows whine goes with cheese jajaja ok im out


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's all like responsibility?? I recognise that bitch, and Harry's all like no you don't and Tony's like yeah I really don't dont know what I was thinking haha where to next
> 
> Tony and Harry think they're really funny. Unfortunately, no one else does

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am legitimately touched by all your support for this story!!! Whoever has left a kudos, hits or a comment, ur all now offocially my favourite people in the world. You don't like that?? AWW THAT'S CUTE OH WELL
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter!! Sort of a groundwork chapter for my next chapter which I am SO EXCITED FOR (no that won't happen yet you filthy animals)
> 
> Trigger warning! References to drink driving and references to drug usage
> 
> Also slight Ohio bashing (I LOVE OHIO don't hate me hate Tony!) and trying and failing to do a German accent WHOOPS

It’s not often that Tony gets embarrassed.

He means, yeah, there have been some _incidents_ that he’s not been proud of, and by some, he means a _lot_. Just ask Rhodey. Actually no, no no, don’t. Ignorance is bliss and all that crap.

But, if someone was to ask him right here right now, ‘Tony, most embarrassing moment, go!’ He’d instantly, with no hesitation whatsoever, think about last night. And not in the fun way.

 _Fuck_. Tony is an _idiot_.

He didn’t mean to have the dream, and by dream he means ridiculously over the top nightmare that he genuinely has suspicions that it was conjured by some beyond evil force of nature. He shakes thinking about it, so with all his mental strength he attempts to push it from his mind. But he _can’t_.

He had dreamt about the Crash.

He was in the car with them, staring at the motorway and having the distinct feeling he was forgetting something, when he had looked to his right. Instead of seeing Howard, he saw himself, bottles of scotch cradled by both of his hands instead of them on the _wheel_. He had started to panic because no one was _driving_ this wasn’t _safe_ and his _mother_ was in the back why was he drinking with his _fucking mother_ in the _backseat_ -

He remembers waking up, a scream yanked from his throat violently and he couldn’t breathe, but why should he have? Why was he breathing when he should have _been there,_ he should have been _driving_ had he known Howard was _drinking_. He could have _saved her_.

He remembers a hand on his shoulder, and he knew it was Harry’s he _knew_ that, but it had felt like Howard’s own scorching form of comfort and it had made him clam up, because how could Howard have _done_ that? Why did he do that to himself? To _her_?

He remembers Harry. How she spoke to him with such warmth and sadness in the depths of her eyes and how he felt increasingly grounded, all because of her. How she felt saddled up next to him and how her hair smelt like vanilla and sugars and spice and everything nice. (He’s allowed to embellish this, okay? It’s his story, fight him.) And he remembers waking up in the morning, actually refreshed but _alone_ , with a note next to him on the bed saying, ‘Went to get breakfast for us. I’m assuming you also like coffee, xx.’

So, yeah, all in all, Tony feels embarrassment to his inner core, like he no longer has organs in his body, it’s all been replaced by volumes of humiliation. It sucks.

So, like any normal person in their right mind would do, he has decided to ignore what went down last night and pretend that it never happened.

Harry seems to be fine with Tony acting like it never occurred at all in no way ever. She hasn’t said anything about what he’s now calling That Incident and is going with Tony’s flow. (Okay that sounds weird. Letting Tony take control? No that’s worse.) What he’s trying to say is that she’s not talking about last night, and the most she’s done to remind him of That Incident is the occasional side eye she gives him around once an hour. So all in all, it’s nothing too extreme.

But, they’ve been driving ( _he’s_ driving this one time- as long as no alcohol is in the vehicle he has a grand old time behind the brakes- and the car is awesome, its wheels are so smooth he’s basically driving on a cloud), and apart from the music blaring out the radio not much has been said between them, unless Tony’s ramblings count. They don’t.

“Where are we?” He asks after a while, because the silence is irritating, and shouldn’t Harry speak all the time? With her accent, it’s a travesty that she doesn’t talk all day every day.

“Shouldn’t you be the one to tell me? You _are_ the one driving, after all.”

“That’s where you lose the argument, Harry Poppins. See, as the driver I have to control where we go, and I have nothing to offer with my hands since they’re gripping the wheel. Plus I heard women can multi-task, so, don’t prove women wrong.”

“Taking on the honor of representing women everywhere, I’m pretty sure we’re in Ohio. I saw a sign back earlier, but men can’t multi-task, so I didn’t want to distract you.”

“Ohio,” he says bemusedly, because out of all the places they could be in right now, they’re in _Ohio_. “Well that’s…fun?”

“Why the cold shoulder for Ohio?” Harry asks, eyebrows raised in question.

“Meh. Nothing much. Haven’t heard anything good. But the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame’s here, which would be awesome for me but you’d hardcore get booed from the scene, Miss What’s AC/DC. There’s also the National Museum of the US Air Force, which is pretty much Rhodey’s wet dream. Yeah I take it back, Ohio’s sexy.”

\-----------------

Ohio is _not_ sexy.

They end up getting lost. They are stranded in the Middle of Nowhere (beautiful town, very easy to get to if you have no sense of direction) and Tony wants to pull at his hair, but reconsiders it when he remembers that Howard was starting to bald before the Crash. Next to him Harry stares at the map in her hands in dismay.

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to see the Rock Hall of Fame.” She sounds very guilty, but hello? Tony was the one driving, it’s his fault.

“Meh, it’s probably shit anyways. Besides you wouldn’t get any of the culture there.”

“We already established that.”

“It’s worth repeating. I need to buy you all rock bands that are worth remembering, pronto.”

“Wasn’t rock a thing, twenty years ago? I’m no expert”-

\- “You don’t say”-

-“But I was under the impression _pop_ had taken over?”

“If you say you’re a fan of the Spice Girls I will drive off without you. I’m not kidding.”

“The _what_?”

“Thank God.”

“We need to focus Tony. We’re stuck somewhere… it appears to be a charming town.” She notes, and Tony wants to chuckle, because only Harry would find a town _charming_. 

“And look!” She points to a building in the far distance, making the rural town have more urban qualities than he expected. “That seems to be a convention of some sort, look at the banners and cars lined up. Seems we’re not stranded after all.”

Tony squints to read the banner title, and when he manages to read it, his lips pinch together. He feels like he’s tasted something sour. “Yeah but look. It’s a book convention.”

Harry spurts out a laugh, her eyes full of mirth and humour. “Remember how I said we should go to a tea convention? This is the next best thing!”

“Harriet Potter”, Tony warns. A fucking _book convention_.

“I thought you liked books!” Harry protests, pretending to neutralise her face when he gives her an unimpressed glare.

“Fun books! Like _science_ stuff! Vernor Vinge, Connie Willis- man 1992 was a good year.”

“Okay, okay, we’re not going in. I’m just interested in muggle books, I suppose.”

“What’s muggle?”

“Oh, I mean current. Current books.”

“Uh huh.” He does not believe her. What is muggle? Is that an English student thing? Oh God, she wants to do English Literature as her college degree, doesn’t she?

“I do want to go inside though. We’ve been travelling for around five hours now, and that’s just today. I need to use the loo, _and_ ”- she goes to the trunk of the car, opening it and taking out a plastic bag. “What I find is that in public places, they have…free food!”

Tony’s mood immediately shoots up, clever girl. “I do love free food.”

He really does. Harry beaming at him is a small bonus.

\-------------------

“Why is it that everywhere we’ve been to has no one our age?” Harry asks, looking at her surroundings with curiosity while glancing at the newspaper she picked up from the floor. They’re at the gate of the convention, and outside in the garden everyone is really, really old. Finding someone in their twenties is currently more difficult of an advanced game of Where’s Waldo. Harry’s eyes are wide, and Tony didn’t think they could get any greener, but here he is.

“My guess: people our age are off drinking their body weight. Festivals, raves, clubs. Ooh and surprisingly, orgies.”

Harry turns to give him what he’s now referring to as the ‘This Boy Is on Drugs But I Haven’t Seen Him Snorting A Line Of Coke So Far In Our Merry Travels So I’m Confused’ glance, though he reckons her thought process is a tad more layered.

“I sincerely doubt that people our age are having orgies.”

“That you know of. Not everyone tells you everything, Hot Pot.”

“Oh, so _you’ve_ been in an orgy?” She teases, though her cheeks form a soft red tinge. Aww.

“First of all, lack of respect for my privacy, Potter. Second, it doesn’t count as an orgy if it was in a sex cult.”

“My mistake.” She grins, and _coincidentally_ , his lips turn upwards.

“Buuuuuuuuuuuuut, and I’m not tryna toot my own horn here, I’m gonna be recognised. Inevitable, long awaited really because so far? Been a bit offended with people who don’t know how to read the news.” His stare at her is pointed.

“Ah, but there’s a lot in the news Tony. For example, I read the weather forecast just now in the Ohio paper. Did you know that sunny skies were predicted today? I’ve only seen a grey sky as of yet, and color me disappointed! Might as well be back in England.”

“It’s a shame I didn’t meet you sooner, your life is wild, I’m jealous, look I’m turning green, seriously, look!”

He receives a gentle punch to the arm (she’s always purposefully gentle, it’s so cute, he may as well have met her in Disneyland. At It’s a Small World. Ha! Funny.)

“As for the recognition issue, we could disguise you?” Harry suggests, a devilish smile greeting her face. Hot.

“ _Yeah_ , sunglasses and a baseball cap’s not gonna cut it. Sorry babe. Nice try though”, he pats the top of her head and rejoices when she scowls at him, though she doesn’t seem pissed off. What’s it gotta take to piss her off? A rude receptionist, apparently.

“No you _arse_. There was a joke shop nearby. We could buy you a beard?”

“It would be a great moment for me to come out as gay, right? Then I could just use _you_ , my own _free_ beard!”

Okay, he definitely deserves the smack this time.

\-------------------

“I think it looks dashing.” Harry comments, looking at him speculatively. Tony frowns.

“I dunno, a white beard is a bit Gandalf.”

“Who?”

“Huh, maybe the book convention is a good thing after all.”

“Trust me, it’ll make you look wise.” She tries to look as serious as possible, but the ends of her lips begin to twitch, and soon she’s giggling hysterically.

“Laugh it up, Potter”, he says, looking in the mirror of the joke shop. He actually looks good, if he doesn’t say so himself.

“I- I’m sorry,” she chokes out, after she’s stopped laughing. “You actually look rather dashing.”

“Well great minds think alike.”

But then realisation forms on her face, and the good mood dies instantly. He misses it, even if it was at his expense. Why did it go?

“You okay?”

“Mm? Oh yes, it’s nothing. It just reminds me of my late Headmaster.”

“Kinky.” Instead of that easing the tension, it does nothing. Like throwing a glass bottle at a brick wall. There’s a small crease in Harry’s eyebrows which Tony wishes wasn’t there. He may not know her amazingly well, but he does know that that crease forms when she’s thinking too hard, lost in her own world. Tony hates that. He wonders if she thinks of the people she’s lost, probably including that Headmaster. She’s been through so much, how does she do it? How does she smile that carefree smile, how does she get him to mimic her enthusiasm? Tony can fake being an enigma, but Harry actually _is_ one. He hopes one day she’ll tell him what she’s thinking.

Christ, he needs to calm down. He’s known her a few _days_.

“Maybe I’ll go with another beard.” He takes off his current one, and her eyes snap up to his with a hint of shock, as if she forgot he was there. He’d be offended, but then he’d be a hypocrite.

“Wear what you want, Tony. I don’t mind.”

“I didn’t like the white beard. Didn’t do much for my face shape anyways. Maybe when I’m old I’ll be able to pull it off.”

Harry nods absentmindedly, her finger unconsciously touching her forehead. When he looks closely, he sees a faded scar in the shape of a lightening bolt. Huh.

Tony takes a black beard that sticks on his face, along with a moustache and a pair of round glasses. The cashier looks at him warily, as if she knows him from somewhere, and Tony wants to cackle when he puts his accessories on and the woman loses any familiarity she thought of him. Wicked.

\----------------------

The convention is as dull as he thought it’d be. Everyone here seems uptight and rude and dressed way too fancy for a book convention that takes place in the day. He recognises some famous authors so he guesses the event is pretty legit. He’s still bored though. They should be in the Rock and Roll Hall of fucking fame, this is _agitating_.

“This is jarring!” Harry moans in frustration, pretty much mirroring his own thoughts. “They won’t allow us in the room with all the food unless we RSVP’d. Who the _fuck_ RSVPs to a book convention?!

“Well well well, guess I was right, and you, Miss Potty Mouth, were wrong.”

She pouts. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting free food.”

“Well, looks like we’re in luck”. Tony looks over at the nearby table, seeing that it has all the name tags, and grins, triumphant over his fucking _genius_. “Because as it turns out, I’ve been listed to attend this convention. I get it, people miss me when I’m absent, curse of being so charming.”

“You’re attending?” She sounds sceptical. Slightly rude there, Potter.

“In a sense.”

“Oh dear, are you trying to be _mysterious_?”

“It’s part of the package deal, Hottie Pottie. Chicks dig my whole…enigma.” He tries to give her his best pose, but he knows he’s failed when Harry laughs, her eyes lighting up her whole face. It’s ridiculous how sappy that makes him feel, and he’s not a _sap_. He’s _not_.

“I’m serious Tony,” but she’s obviously not. “How in Merlin’s name were you invited to a book convention? Have you written something?”

“Okay, I confess, Tony Stark wasn’t invited. But…. Hans Weber was.” He takes the name tag and sticks it on over where he knows his collar bone is.

The dawn of comprehension arrives on Harry’s face, her understanding what he means. Her mouth forms an ‘O’ shape, she looks so innocent he has an urge to cover her in bubble wrap. 

“I dunno Tony. What if the people arrive?”

“Nah, we’ll be here five minutes tops. You get the free food, I get the free booze, boom, we’re out. Let’s find you a name”, he looks at the table and there must be someone watching over him because the stars have aligned for him in this moment. “You”, he brings the name tag, sticking it over where he knows her boob isn’t, he’s a _gentleman_ , a tempted gentleman. “Are Leah Dune.”

“Oh no, this is another pop culture reference, isn’t it?”

“Slightly.” He’s not even surprised she doesn’t get the references anymore. Not surprised, just disappointed. So much to teach this young Padawan. “I am Hans, and you are Leah. The spelling’s a bit off for each name yeah yeah, but still, I’m funny and I know it.”

“You’re ridiculous”, she says to him, but they manage to get in, and Harry teasingly bumps her hips with his in silent victory.

\-----------------------

Tony distracts the people around the buffet (it’s a buffet! Yay!) while Harry puts everything edible to man in the plastic bag. He’s probably gonna have to eat icing off a tuna sandwich, but did he mention the food is free? He must’ve.

The security guard (in a book convention, man this is a weird place) eyes his beard with a confused expression on his face. It’s obviously one of the fakest beards he’s ever seen in his life, but Tony’s not been recognised, so he has no shame.

“And you are?” A man approaches him to his left. He looks at him like Tony’s an eccentric artist. He might be. He has no idea who this _Hans Weber_ is.

“Hans Weber, at your service.” They shake hands and the man’s snotty face immediately lights up.

“Mr Weber! So lovely to meet you? Last I heard you were on an expedition in Germany!”

“… _Ya_. Vat happened.”

It’s the worst accent he’s done in his life, he wants to write a letter apologising to Germany. Alas, he’s in Ohio.

“Where do you originate from in Germany?”

“….Jus de local German area.”

The man nods slowly.

“…Berlin, is vere I reside. It is very... vancy.” Oh my _God_. Shut _up_.

“Ah I see, I see.” The man looks satisfied enough with his answer, but Tony wants to get out right about now. “And who are you with?”

Tony has an opportunity. He _seizes_ it.

“I apoligize, my English is…. Bad.”

“Of course.” The man says with conviction, and then proceeds to _speak_. _German_.

Tony has many regrets.

While this man is speaking this _monologue_ , Tony’s head frantically searches the room for Harry. When he finds her, she appears to be eating a cupcake, her expression at ease. Probably the exact opposite of Tony right now. He tries signalling her with his eyes, and she actually meets them, it’s a _miracle_. His hopes are dashed though, when he sees her point her thumb to the bathroom behind, grabbing a second cupcake on the way to.

So, using his genius skills (he can _do_ this), he decides to do the only thing available in his arson.

He flees the scene, running at a pace that he’s actually impressed with himself. The last thing he sees before he enters the other room is the man looking around him in bewilderment.

Crisis. Averted.

Harry meets him in the next room.

“You having fun?”

“Ya!” He realises he’s still doing a German accent, stops, then continues in American. “You?”

Harry grins at him. “The food is excellent; the people seem nice enough if a bit stoic when they realise you’re not a worldwide famous author. I took the nametag off when someone asked me about my apparent _award-winning_ bestseller. It seems that to all the men here, they had no idea Leah Dune was so ‘young and fresh looking.” She imitates a leering drooling man, and Tony doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or clench his jaw. He begins to settle on a compromise, which of course to him means an incredibly witty comment, but he then hears his name, his _real name_ , spoken behind him by a middle-aged woman, and all of a sudden his cheeks turn red and nothing matters to him anymore.

“Stark Industries! A tragic story, really.”

“Yes, Howard was truly an innovator. Gorgeous wife, too.”

“Well, yes, yes, but the tragedy lies in that boy! Do they expect him to surge the company upwards? A ruin in the making, really, Howard’s downfall was having a useless son, and only one at that.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“Look at the facts, Jim. Howard may have had a sharp mind, but _Maria Stark_. Not much other than a pretty face. At least the son can write a book about his father. Or perhaps make a film.”

Tony is two seconds away from harming a woman, his temper is flaring so wildly that he thinks he might be sick. Everything around him has become a blur, everything about that night has come rushing back in waves so large he feels like he’s drowning. Before he makes a scene, before he turns around and does something he’ll regret he storms out of the room and finds the nearest bathroom, throwing up all the contents in his stomach. And he thought he was hungry.

\---------------------

Even though the bathroom is huge, bigger than bathrooms should be, really, he feels so terrifically suffocated. The stalls have no graffiti engraved in the walls, and yet Tony can practically see words written all over them. ‘Useless son’, ‘not much other than a pretty face’, ‘at least the son can write a book about his father!’ The words may as well be carved in his surroundings like a visible scarring _dent_.

No. He would never be better than that man, that disgusting man who thought it was a good idea to drink when he had, with her in the _fucking car_. Tony wants to be better than Howard, but he doesn’t think that’s a goal for him anymore. He can’t- what is he doing? He’s literally run away from his responsibilities, he hasn’t bothered to check in with anyone what if they think he’s gone what if they take the company from him he’d have nothing they can’t do that to him he’ll end up like Howard except alone.

But to say that about his _mother_. To say that about her, who brought him funny plasters when he was hurt to make him laugh, who listened patiently when he told her of a new idea for an invention, who told him that hugs would squeeze all the bad thoughts out- Who was this woman to insult his mother? What was wrong with her what was wrong with _everyone_ -

“Tony?” Harry’s voice is almost as soothing as it was last night, but it still feels like someone’s dumped ice-cold water on his face or shown her a gaping wound with nothing but a plaster on it. Harry repeats her question, this time with a lack of surety. That throws Tony off, because she seems like someone who’d have everything sorted out.

(He knows that’s not true. He realised that when he saw her rage at the bitchy receptionist. He likes that she has a temper, that she’s not perfect, because he understands her. This is all very beside the point, but these days when he digresses he usually thinks of her. When did that become a thing?)

“What’re you doing in the _boys’ room_ , Pottery Barn?” He tries to sound nonchalant. He fails miserably. Too much heavy breathing, he reckons.

“Well, Tony, there’s a little secret I have to tell you,” she jokes, but it falls flat seeing as she has a shitty audience.

He probably hasn’t said something for a while, because Harry speaks again. 

“I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh I’m fine. Fine and dandy. Lucy in the sky with diamonds. Living in that yellow submarine.”

“You’re trying to distract me with pop culture references, aren’t you?”

He can’t get much passed her, it seems.

“I just need a breather. It’s crowded in there.” He admits after a long fucking time. Does she feel awkward? _He_ does. This is kind of like last night, except he can’t just randomly fall asleep to defuse the tension, and by the looks of it, she won’t either. Plus, she’s not cuddled up with him, which isn’t- which is cool.

“And filled with rude people,” she adds, her voice surprisingly bitter. Ah, she must have heard what those people said too.

“It doesn’t matter”. He doesn’t like the defeated tone he’s using, but he can’t help it. They weren’t wrong. They’re _not_ wrong.

“Evidently, that’s not true. You’ll be happy to know that there was an _unfortunate_ incident for a certain group of people. Yes, sadly, someone _accidentally_ spilled a carton of orange juice over the big mouthed ring leader of a group of knobs. Apparently, it was a _very_ expensive dress. The person that spilled it didn’t seem to care though. How sad.”

His mood is beginning to lift, though his heart still feels like it weighs a ton.

“That misfit needs to be taught a lesson.”

“Ah, sadly she ran away before security could dispose of her, not before giving the group the finger, that savage. Currently no one is able to find her. Rumour has it that she’s been rewarded for her heinous crime, however.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. She has the privilege of talking to a lovely boy who doesn’t deserve the crap people are spewing about him. Behind his back no less, the cowards.”

He doesn’t reply to that, because doesn’t she get it? He isn’t who she thinks she is, and he feels so selfish that he’s trying to hide this _ugly_ part of himself. He just doesn’t want her to leave, is all.

“Stop that?”

“Stop what?”

“Thinking they’re right. They’re not. They don’t even _know_ you Tony, how on earth can they judge you when they have no material about you to go off on other than a media rag column?”

Again, what can he say to that?

“You have a very low viewpoint of yourself,” she notes softly, making his heart stop for a split second. How does she even know that? They’ve known each other for _three days_.

“I’m Tony Stark.” He snaps in a voice that’s cutting, and he realises that that’s his defence mechanism. Christ, when did his name become a _defence mechanism_?

“And I’m Harry Potter. Names only hold so much power.”

“Bit lost at that.”

“Well, you have a prestigious name, and your father was well respected, it seems. But that hasn’t stopped the people outside from disrespecting you, his own son, as if you’re not a real person, just another page in a magazine those arses read to escape their boring lives. Take it from me, people will slander your name simply due to their own insecurity.”

He’s a bit gobsmacked (and he doesn’t say gobsmacked a lot, because it’s a weird word) if he’s honest. Not that he’s going to let his shock show.

He’s also glad, that she never mentioned his mother, or any thoughts he’d had about her. Harry probably knows that’s something he doesn’t want to discuss, and he’s… he’s touched.

“That’s… didn’t know you had that whole wisdom appeal going on. Very Obi-Wan Kenobi, if we’re still going on that Star Wars wagon. Actually, scratch that, you’re probably more of a Yoda. Same height and all that.”

“Ah, jokes based on my height, how fun, not to mention very original.” There’s laughter in her gorgeous British speech, so he knows she’s a good sport. And a really, really good person. And mysterious.

“How do you know all that about the media?

She’s silent for a moment, and Tony thinks he may have crossed the line he knew he’d eventually barrel through, but when she replies, her voice is hesitant but sincere.

“I’ll tell you one day. Not soon, but one day.”

He hears a door open and thinks with disappointment that she’s decided to go, which is fine, honest, she has no obligation to him so. But Harry yells out, “Oi mate! You mind? I’m having some me time, go find your own bathroom.” The door then closes with a muttered “Well, I never!”

Finally, Tony cracks a smile.

\-------------------------

Trying to leave the Convention is more of a challenge than expected.

“You! Security have been looking for the both of you, actually.” A security guard marches towards them. Before Tony even thinks about it he’s in front of Harry, who scoffs, her posture screaming ‘bitch please’, and stands next to him, her foot slightly in front so she’s basically become a shield. It’s very attractive, if she was a seasoning she’d definitely be something spicy. Or sweet. Like a _spicy cake_. He is getting _way_ too carried away with this shitty metaphor.

“Me?” Tony places his hand on his heart.

The guard holds out his finger at Harry, who looks very unimpressed. “That lady you spilled your drink on wants money to pay for her dress. Pay up.”

“That’s no way to speak to Mrs Dune.” Tony interrupts, though he’ll pay for the dress if he has to. Harry did it for him, anyways.

“Good thing you're here too. We received a phone call from a _Hans Weber_ , saying he wasn’t allowed in the convention centre -said his name tag wasn't there. Doesn’t take a genius to guess that the boy in the _obviously fake beard_ with the name tag of _Hans Weber_ had something to do with that.”

Wow, he really lost track of time. Harry and him don't have the best luck do they?

"Oh so Hans Weber shows up but not Leah Dune?" 

"They probably have a history." Tony tells Harry confidingly. 

"You two wanna shut up and follow me?" The guard sneers, it's a bit much.

“I’m getting some animosity from you, it’s compelling, you’re like a sexy Dracula, I dig it.”

“Tony,” Harry hisses, and if eye rolling was a noise, his ears would hurt like a bitch.

“Nah it’s cool, he can’t prove anything.”

With one swift tear, Harry rips the beard of his face, her eyes brightening at his dumbfounded expression. “Whoops.”

“Har _ry_!” He whines.

“I think it’s time for us to depart,” she says matter of fact to Tony, not giving the guard a second look. It makes Tony feels important.

“You two are coming with me,” the guard approaches them, a bemused expression on his pale face.

“Sorry to waste your time, nice meeting you, bye!” Harry shouts as she takes Tony’s hand and runs with him in tow. Soon they’re both sprinting as the guard tries to keep up with them. They’re both laughing and breathless when they reach the car, and Tony has never felt like this before. He feels _free_. Why was he thinking that he’s neglecting his responsibilities? He’s _seventeen_ , he’s allowed to have _fun_ , he’s allowed to do what he wants and who cares if Howard would disapprove? He’s gone now, Tony can’t change the past (that would be cool though) and he’s going to be better than Howard was. Not that he’ll be anything like Howard though, no.

He’s not going to be a Howard, because Howard never had a Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what ur thoughts??
> 
> Leave a comment if u wanna, they make me GIDDY i love this GIDDY FEELING its FRESH and PLEASANT
> 
> I love u all


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's all WHO IS SHE and becomes BFFs with alcohol and Tony's like how did this happen lol imma beat up a tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading comments actually makes me emotional I love u guys so much you make this fic what it is
> 
> Trigger warning- attempted assault, drug usage and underage drinking

Three days become two weeks, but to Harry they fly by so quickly it’s like she and Tony have their own separate bubble of time.

They visit _everything_. Tony takes her to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Tony talks obnoxiously loudly to try and piss Harry off.

(“ _Ah! Queen_. Unfortunately, Harry over here has no idea who these people are. Before I told her they were a band, she asked me if we had to bow before them! A cry for help has never been so crystal clear.”)

They don’t stop at Ohio. Before Harry knows it they’re in Oklahoma, with Tony demanding they go to a museum dedicated to cowboys. Tony makes her dress up as a Cowgirl (he dresses as a Cowboy, _obviously_ ) and they spend the whole time in there trying to attempt a western accent. It goes so terribly that Tony gets into an argument with a middle aged man, at first about the appalling accents, but it eventually almost becomes a fight when Tony accidentally insults the fellow.

(“No, no, it’s not a _round_ stomach, it’s just perky! It has life, it’s adorable, I’ll touch it if you want me to show you I’m cool with it.”

“We still talking about the stomach there Tony?”

“Harry, for once I gotta say you’re actually making this _worse_.”)

Next it’s Montana. They decide to hike up a mountain, and Tony whines the whole way up about how his calves hurt. When Harry reminds him that it was his idea, he goes off.

(“When have my decisions been good, Harry. Truly think that question over, no, really. I dare you.”

“You said yes to travelling with me?”

“Well had I known we’d be climbing the mountain of death I may have thought twice.”)

Being with Tony is refreshing and fantastic. He never stops asking for her input and she never stops feeling so valued and needed, and she doesn’t think she can stop valuing or needing him either. He is so different to her world, the world where the majority of people would frown over most of what Tony says, and Harry sometimes feels overwhelmed by how starkly interesting this boy is, but in a positive spin. Like when you’ve brought a gift for someone and you know they’re going to like it, she feels as if she’s in constant suspense with Tony, positive trepidation over what they’re going to do next has implanted itself into her bones. She also knows he feels the same way, especially when he smiles at her. His grin is impish and so carefree that she feels she’s caught some sort of infection, but she’s never heard of an illness where warmth seeps from your head down to the tips of your toes.

Tony seems to have gotten slightly better in the last week. Not in the healing sense, Harry knows first-hand that that takes time, and one cannot rush it. He still has nightmares, but Harry occasionally uses her magic in order to soothe his dreams. She feels incredibly guilty over it sometimes, but she can’t help it, seeing him in distress is unpleasant at best. She also casts silencers over herself before she falls asleep as to prevent Tony from hearing any screams she may have. She’s had several nightmares, if she’s being honest. Nerve wracking ones that cause her to feel sick and angry and sad and so _alone_. There are times when she misses her family so much she can’t breathe. There are times she’ll think of fallen comrades, friends, _Hermione_ , and the contrite will consume her so aggressively she has to dig her nails into her palms to prevent any hysterics from breaking free. But Tony will say something, and she will ease. Not completely, but significantly.

It is ironic that she is the witch and yet he is the one who is magical.

It is on the third week, on a Friday to be exact, where their dynamic begins to shift.

“Oh my God Harry look!” Tony points to a sign with so much excitement sometimes Harry feels like she’s travelling with a toddler after he’s gotten his sugar fix. Not that she’s much better.

“Ooh, what what what?” He turns to her with a scheming grin, and that trepidation feeling burns brightly. “There’s a festival three miles ahead. Whadda you say? You, me, country music. I’ve even got that pink wig you love, yes I kept it because I’m _awesome_ , it’s in the trunk.” He starts singing a western song with unsuppressed glee, his voice squeaking when he tries to sing a high note.

While Harry smiles, she feels her stomach drop slightly. It’s not that Harry doesn’t like having fun, it’s just that after the war, being in large crowds is incredibly intimidating. She hates the atmosphere of suffocation that large groups all huddled together can bring. The book convention had been fine in that people understood the basis of personal space. But she remembers her first panic attack after the war, when she was helping the reparation of Hogwarts and was swarmed with journalists. Ginny had punched a reporter in the face when he wouldn’t back off, if she remembers clearly.

But Tony looks ecstatic, and he deserves to look like this, so why not? Harry gives him a bright beam, adding excitement to her tone so Tony doesn’t think otherwise.

“It sounds like fun.”

\----------------------

Harry isn’t a jealous person.

Her teenage years reflect this. Had she shown jealousy when she found out Cho had feelings for Cedric? No, she understood where Cho was coming from and respected both her choice in blokes and Cedric’s honesty when he told Harry about the ordeal. Had she been jealous when she’d seen Draco talking to other girls? No, because she knew that what they had was special, and the times she’d been pissy with Draco had nothing to do with something as petty as having female friends.

But tonight, seeing this girl, unashamedly flirting with Tony. Well.

Okay, yes. Harry is jealous.

This is a completely new sensation, and she finds that she hates it with a passion. It’s making her something she’s not; right now, she has the urge to get Tony and take him somewhere this _Abby_ can’t find him ever again. It’s made her _possessive_ and _territorial_ , and Harry wants to lock these emotions so deep within her that she can never conjure this mental feeling again.

It has also brought questions along, some that have come to the surface of her mind and are refusing to allow themselves to be buried again: why is she jealous? She wouldn’t be jealous if Ron made a new friend, how come she’s going through this shade of green for a boy she considers on the same level as Ron?

The answer: Tony is clearly _not_ on the same level as Ron, Tony has been placed on a different level to Ron for quite some time and doesn’t seem to want to leave it. Harry shakes her head at that, because what they have is so _bloody good_ and Harry’s decided to try and ruin it by putting Tony in a position he _obviously_ doesn’t want to be in.

No, she thinks smarmily, he wants to be in a position with Abby. Happy, fun, Abby, with her _green top_ and _red lipstick_ and ‘ _I’m a great dancer! Dance with me?’_

Ugh.

Harry wants to shake her head at that, seeing as Abby is so sweet and has very good taste in boys- stop it, Potter, stop that right now. Merlin, she wishes Hermione was here with such a solid ache in her chest that she could cry right here right now. At least Tony would glance her way-

 _Shut. Up_. Potter.

Before her thoughts can further unravel in this negative spiral, she is greeted with a tap on her shoulder. It’s that girl from earlier, Josie, she thinks her name was. Her and Tony met her in a lovely group of people. Abby’s also in that happy go lucky group. Abby gives the group a bad name. Abby- she needs to stop. Josie’s holding two shot glasses, her lips wide and expression cheeky.

“You in?”

Harry casts one last look at Tony and _Abby_ , who both look content in dancing the night away. Tony is very beautiful when he dances. He looks like he’s in his own world, and Harry wishes she could join him there. She’s currently not having a great time in this one.

“I know that look.” Josie comes nearer to her side, her face looking at the dancing couple. “I’ve been there, my friend. Trust me, if they’re not looking at you _now_ , you’re in that friend zone for _life_.”

“Friend zone?”

Josie gives her the look Tony always gives her, but instead of Harry laughing, that roaring jealousy tries to take control again. “Babe, honestly, so much to teach you. In _Friends_ , Ross doesn’t get Rachel ‘cause he waited too long to ask her out. So he became her _friend_. Get it? He got stuck in the _friend zone_. I mean, I know they eventually dated, but that’s a TV show! Life isn’t that nice.”

“So you’re saying”-

“I’m _saying_ that you need to come with me and do so many shots that you forget that boys name. Take it from me, alcohol can be your best friend. You’ve just got to see a lot of her.” She gives Harry a wink. “Let’s play a drinking game. Whoever can’t drink any more, owes the other fifty dollars.”

A protest lies on the tip of Harry’s tongue, because since the age of fifteen she’s hated feeling out of control over her body. But she thinks of Tony and Abby dancing together, and her anger morphs into determination to forget about the whole thing.

“Fifty? A hundred, and then you’re on.”

\---------------------

Harry wins, as she knew she would. Josie stops drinking with a defeated groan, mumbling something incoherent, and stumbles away to another girl after giving Harry her money’s worth. Not that Harry would have remembered the bet. The alcohol sets in her mind like a big grey cloud, and she can’t think much apart from ‘worst idea ever’, ‘worst idea ever.’ She wants to go and find Tony, to tell him something, anything, and she’s so excited to find him she almost trips. Huffing, Harry looks at her surroundings. Most people are in the tents watching the music unfold, and those who aren’t are patched up in different fragmented areas, drinking and smoking and having _fun_. It makes her smile, the freedom she sees, and she remembers that Tom could have put an end to that. Before she can fall down that rabbit hole, she reminds herself that Tony’s around. That perks her up again.

“Hey.” A boy runs over to her, his face extremely happy and his eyes practically black. “Wanna dance?”

“Nah mate,” she says, untrusting and nervous around this stranger. Tony’s essentially become her armour when she meets new people. Without him next to her she doesn’t like socialising and she doesn’t want to. “I’m good. Have fun tonight.”

“Aww”, he pouts, edging closer to her and into her personal space. “Please. I’m bored.”

“I’m serious, mate. Go find someone who wants to have fun with you, because I don’t. Another time, maybe.”

“But I’m boooored.”

“Then go play monopoly.” Harry snaps, flinching when everything starts to spin a little. She wants Tony here.

“Woah, why you being like this? I just wanna dance.” The boy grabs her arms, not unkindly, but his nails begin to dig into her skin and Harry begins to lose whatever patience she thought she had.

“I said I _don’t want to_. Repeat it back to me and let me go.”

The nails dig in deeper. Oddly, this stabilises her a little, not sobering her up but allowing her to do what she will if he keeps being like this. Although she wants Tony here, he isn’t _needed_.

The boy’s face begins to become serious, his dark eyes blackening further. It’s almost demonic, like she’s peering into his soul.

“I want to have _fun_. Come _dance_.” When one of his hands start travelling from her arm to areas that should be reserved, she has officially had enough. She knees him in the groin with precise speed, and when he releases her arm she moves her foot to kick him square in the chest. The boy goes flying into the mud, falling in one swift squelch. She wasn’t too violent, the boy will only have bruises tomorrow, but she does feel slight satisfaction in knowing her training skills are still on par.

A couple of boys come running over, their mouths agape.

“Hello boys.” She nods, once again flinching when the world becomes a Ferris wheel. “This one over here doesn’t know when to take no for an answer. Educate him?” The boys slowly nod, one of them looking down at their apparent friend in contempt. Harry smiles. “Have a good night.”

Walking away, Harry has the strangest sensation, like she’s being watched. It’s a feeling she hasn’t felt in over a month, so it sets her hairs standing on her arms in attack mode. She’s too drunk to bring her wits about however, and the feeling doesn’t feel dangerous as it does in surprising terms of comfort, so Harry doesn’t think much of it. She then feels her stomach begin to rebel against her quite suddenly, so her priorities manage to lose slight focus.

She ends up running to the communal loos, her body slumping against the stalls. The alcohol has well and truly set in, and it is so lucky she gets there just in time to see her stomach unload into the toilet rather than the floor.

Happy days, really.

\--------------------

There’s a presence behind Harry. It’s that feeling she had five minutes ago, the feeling that someone’s been watching her, but rather than the approaching doom that past experiences like these have made her aware of, this one brings familiarity. Like a surprise birthday party (not a sensation she’s actually familiar with, but she has a sense of what that entails) or someone saying they have important news, but it’s understood that the news is going to be good rather than dreaded. It’s similar to what travelling with Tony makes her feel, and it brings Harry a level of comfort that’s embracing instead of a form of suffocation. Harry knows that maybe she should be scared, that there’s someone behind who’s just opened the door to her bathroom stall that she doesn’t know, but she’s drunk and heaving and when a pair of arms wrap around her waist she sinks into the warmth as easily as a blanket enfolding her.

“Who’re you?” She manages to slur out, but everything was spinning before these arms grounded her, so she doesn’t particularly care about who this is. She doesn’t care about much right now.

After a short inhale from the Stranger, he (it’s a man, should she be frightened?) mumbles an “it doesn’t matter”, in a voice so low and fast as if he wants to prevent her from hearing him. Harry has an excellent set of ears though. She huffs and turns around slowly, in order to prevent an earthquake of course, and is immediately surprised. Because when she turns around, she is greeted with the sight of Tony.

But he _isn’t_ Tony. She means that yes, he looks like him, but he’s not. He looks a tad older, around his forties, faint lines in his face that were certainly _not_ there twenty minutes ago and has an _actual_ beard that is patterned stylishly on his visage. Whereas the beard in the joke shop they used back in Ohio made Tony look comical, this one looks so natural that it suits him perfectly. She knows she’s openly gaping, because Tony is the most handsome boy she’s ever seen, but this man, this _clone_ or something, is something else entirely. She must be hallucinating. Harry is so drunk and so _bored_ of it, perhaps her brain is trying to make it up to her.

“Woah,” is all that comes out of her mouth. She eyes her Hallucination? Fantasy? Distorted image? Speculatively, and decides he’s a hallucination. Tony’s probably off with _Abby_.

Her Hallucination gives her a small smile, dimples stretching. There’s a sadness in his eyes though, and he looks so tense, as if there’s a weight on his shoulders he can’t shake. It translates to some sort of burden, and that makes Harry confused. She _knows_ that look, she took on _Tom_ with that look. It makes her feel nauseous, though that could be the vodka talking.

“Hey there.” The Hallucination finally says in a voice so soft and it’s surprisingly deeper than how Normal Tony speaks. It’s very pretty. He takes one of his arms and out comes a water bottle from his pocket. He gives her a pointed look. When she downs the bottle (not that it helps, but _whatever_ , she wouldn’t expect imaginary water to help anyway) he still doesn’t say anything. He just watches her. It’s annoying and way too intense for her chaotic mental state to make sense of.

“Is this real?” She asks him, though it comes out even to her ears as unintelligible crap. The expression on his face hasn’t changed though, he looks at her with such tenderness that she’s caught off guard. No one has ever looked at her with eyes that soft before.

“Since you don’t remember this, I’m gonna go with yeah. It’s as real as you want it to be, Harry.”

“I leave you alone for five minutes ‘n you’ve aged like, _forty years_.” She speaks slowly so he can understand her (as if her own mind won’t understand what she’s saying, _Merlin_ she’s off her face) and is victorious when he comprehends her words.

His mouth forms into a mocking gasp, but his eyes never lose that damned softness, it’s disorienting. “Okay, I’m stopping you right there. First of all, _forty_ years? That is _so off_ you don’t even _know_. Second of all, current Tony is trying to find you. I get you’re a witch, but this disappearing act is _so_ uncool.”

“You’re trying to trip me out. Tony doesn’t know I’m a witch, this is my mind _tripping_ _me out_.” The room starts swaying again, and Harry clenches her eyes shut as she turns to the toilet to throw up. One of her Hallucination’s hands tighten around her (differently to the previous arsehole drunkard, this feels more reverent), while the other gently holds her hair back, his thumb stroking the back of her neck. The whole thing is very bizarre.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t talk. I’m sorry. Have more water, please, losing hair here.”

“No, I like it when Tony talks! I just- was goin’ on?” She turns back around to him with open eyes, frowning when she sees his face has become guarded.

“Can’t tell you.”

Now Harry’s angry. “You can’t- no! You’re making me think I’m crazy, that’s not fair. And! _And_ you said I won’t remember this.” She gestures throughout her speech, her arms flying wildly around her. Her Hallucination moves his head whenever her hand whips too close to him. This would make her happy, but his smile firmly sits on his face, full of fondness and such _longing_ that she feels so sad. She’s confused as to why. “ _Tell me_.”

When her Hallucination replies, his voice is thick. “I just wanted to see you, that’s all. I’m sort of…not supposed to be here, and it was supposed to be a blink and you miss it moment for me, but you were _drunk_ , so- fuck I’m an idiot. How old even are you this year- like _fifteen_?”

“Seventeen, you patronising…shithead! ‘N what you mean, year? Are you senile in your old age?”

“Old age- okay yeah I’m right, definitely fifteen. Late fourteen maybe, wouldn’t be surprised if you had some acne.”

“Rude!” Harry exclaims, and she attempts to push herself up from this rude old man who is not Tony, because Tony isn’t rude. Well, he can be. But never intentionally! And never to her. “I am leaving now.”

The arms slightly tighten around her, almost frantic. “Don’t leave.” He says, rather desperately, Harry notes. “I’m sorry I- it’s good to see you.”

Harry frowns, relaxing back into her previous position, her lips form into a pout. “I’m lost.”

“So am I- well I’ve been lost for a couple of years now, but I’m fixing it currently. I mean I say fixing, it’s risky business this mission- you know what, I’ve said way too much, my ass is gonna be handed out to me on a silver fucking platter. Fuck, I’m telling a fifteen year old all my secrets, this is ridiculous, this is comedy worthy, I’ve pretty much become a walking cartoon character”-

“You talk a lot.” Harry finds her Hallucination very interesting. But he’s beginning to talk more to himself than her, and she usually isn’t attention seeking, but he’s supposed to come from _her_ mind, so her being the centre of attention isn’t a diva demand.

“Better get used to that gorgeous, you’re kind of stuck with that for”- he glances at her left hand and looks away as if _he’s_ the one who’s nauseous and not Harry- “doesn’t matter.”

“I thought _I_ was supposed to be the cryptic one.”

Before he can answer, the door to the toilets open. “Tony?” Someone calls out, and Harry doesn’t recognise the voice, but her Hallucination does. He goes rigid and clenches his jaw, his arms slowly leaving from around her small frame as if he’s being pulled by string. Harry gives him a betrayed glare, because he’s _her_ hallucination, he can’t just leave whenever he wants!

“Why are you leaving?” The world is swaying again because of him, and it’s not fair. But his face gains a look of determination as he stands up in front of her, and his fists clench into a stance that looks rather heroic, if she doesn’t say so herself. He opens the door, and behind him Harry briefly sees a very tall blond man, his muscular arms crossed.

“Tony- your Tony, will be back in a few minutes. You’ll start rambling about halluc- It makes sense now, just gained a full circle moment wow, so yeah, that’s epic”-

“Tony.” She hears the man say again, sterner this time, though there’s a tinge of guilt in his tone.

“Got it, got it.” He’s still standing in front of her though, so Harry doesn’t think he actually gets it. Her Hallucination looks hesitant for a split second, and then it’s like he’s lost a battle in his mind because he bends back down to her and gives her a kiss on the forehead. It’s long and lingering, and when he pulls back his breaths are shallow.

“I will fix this.” He whispers to her, urgent. “Something bad happens, but I’m going to _fix it_ , I promise. I’ll see you soon.”

Her eyes are wide. “Can I help you?” Hallucination or not, she knows she’ll always want to help Tony.

He forces out a shake of his head and opens the door once more. “Just drink some water, please? Kids in the 90s, they know how to party.” He takes one last look at her, his former smile nowhere in sight and his gaze bruising, before he closes the door behind him with a gentle shut. By the time Harry manages to stand up and find him, he’s gone. She sits back down, feeling slightly less drunk, but there is a pit at the bottom of her stomach she can’t and won’t make sense of.

She won’t think much of this for some time.

\------------------

Tony- _her_ Tony, no beginnings of wrinkles in sight- comes in a few minutes later, like her Hallucination predicted. (She might be psychic. That would be unsurprising really, she is usually right.)

“Harry?” His speech is high pitched and out of breath. She opens the door angrily at this, the stall opening with a bang. When he sees her, he deflates in apparent relief, which is a _lie_. He’s probably looking for _Abby_.

“Are you Tony? Last time I saw you, you were a _senile old man_.”

“Oh thank God. _Harry_ , where did you _go_?”

“I had to throw up, so I did. It was disgusting, but I have now released all my negative energy.” She doesn’t _really_ know what she’s saying, but Tony’s beginning to show amusement on his face, and all she really wants right now is for him to laugh. Hallucination Tony didn’t laugh. He was sad.

“You _hallucinated_ me?”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“No, no apparently I’m a mind reader now. Come to my magic shows, they’ll have no booze whatsoever considering the fact you’re a lightweight.” He sounds angry, which is really irritating because Harry’s been angry at him _all night_. He can’t just flip the tables, it’s rather rude.

“Well if you don’t like that, go back to dancing with Abby.”

“ _What_?”

“Abby. She’s pretty. Really pretty. And she was dancing _all over you_. Like- like some kind of- stupid dancer!”

“Harriet.” He says slowly, a smile seeping in his incredulous tone, bad mood seemingly forgotten. “Are you _jealous_?”

She scoffs. “No. Not of Abby and her terrible dance moves. Shockingly bad dance moves.”

“The worst,” Tony agrees, coming to sit beside her. Instead of his arms going around her like the Tony her mind made up did, Tony sits next to her cautiously, like she’s some sort of animal lashing out.

“I’m not an animal lashing out.” She informs him. He nods and watches her, his expression mockingly serious.

“Okay. I understand. You’re just a very, very big lightweight. Or small, I don’t know lightweight math like you do. It’s no big deal though, lightweights spend less on drinks.”

“It’s my fault. I entered a drinking game against Josie.” She grins at Tony. “I won.”

Tony’s smile is gigantic, his teeth shining up the dim aesthetic to the bathroom. “That’s my girl!”

“No.” Harry says, unable to hide the bitterness in her words. “Your girl’s probably waiting for you to dance with her again.”

“I don’t- I didn’t.” He sighs, slouching against the stall wall. “I was trying to be nice. I didn’t realise she was flirting, until ten minutes ago. That’s when I asked Alec where you were, cause you weren’t in the tent anymore which- I didn’t think you were in trouble, but, you know, I worry since I’m now a Mother Hen- and he said he saw you run to the bathroom. So, yeah, that’s what happened. I’m sorry I left you.”

(She left him after seeing Abby dance closer and closer to him. Not wanting to physically harm another being, she left under the excuse of getting drinks.)

“I was the one who told you to stay put while I got drinks, Tony, I told you to stay”-

“But I should’ve gone with you.” Tony interrupts, his decision final. “And- Harry I’m so sorry. I didn’t even want to be with Abby. I mean yeah, she’s a dead ringer for Uma Thurman, which fourteen-year-old me would’ve been drooling all over, it’s embarrassing, I own up to that. But I spent the whole time being with her and thinking, um. Well you know.”

Harry frowns. “I don’t know.” She watches in fascination as he scratches his head, his face red and sheepish as he looks at the floor.

“I just…wanted to, uh. Be with you. And stuff.”

Drunk or not, it’s now Harry’s turn for her cheeks to brighten. She turns to the loo seat, looking down as if that is more interesting than the conversation at hand. (It isn’t. Nothing will ever be as interesting as this conversation.)

“Don’t let that go to your head, Pitter Potter.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. Your ego’s so big anyways we’d have to get a bigger car to make room.”

“As long as we’re driving off without Abby, we can have any car you want.” It’s made to come out as a joke, but Harry realises her drunk self has no obligation to her future morning after self. It’s rude, and Harry wants to shrivel up until Tony can’t see her, can’t see her face in pure embarrassment. She’s lucky Tony’s amazing though, because he answers her with honesty. 

“It’ll just be you and me.”

There’s silence after that, because Harry is so in awe of Tony, and she presumes that Tony is slightly humiliated with himself at the moment. He’s not usually like this, so open with her, and Harry wants to savour this moment so much. It’s a shame she’s not sober.

“How are you feeling?” He questions her after a few minutes. She nods with a grunt of determination, and uses the loo to push herself up, triumphant when the room doesn’t decide to become a roundabout. Tony makes a disgusted face at her.

“Gross! Don’t think I’m ever touching those hands again, we’re gonna have to go to some hospital lecture so you can discover the rules of personal hygiene. That is grim, Potter, so fucking grim.

“Five points taken from Gryffindor!” She announces, laughing manically when Tony stares at her like she’s the weirdest person he’s ever met.

\---------------------

Though the world is no longer spinning, Harry finds herself stumbling quite a bit. She tries to walk with finesse but after her fifth time almost hitting the ground, Tony seems to decide he’s had enough of her nonsense. He scoops her up into his arms, and it is wonderful. She rests her face into his neck, and he must be very thirsty, because from then on he begins to consistently take large gulps of air.

“For someone who inhaled their drink like oxygen, you’re as light as a feather, Harry-Wan Kenobi.”

“I thought I was Yoda?”

“Oh you are. I’m just running out of things to call you, losing my edge really.”

“Call me crazy”-

“Okay, Crazy it is.”

-“But I always thought people should address others by their first names.”

“Someone has clearly had _way_ too much to drink. We’re gonna get you in a hotel with a water fountain and leave you to drink it all. And then, in the morning where all you want to do is die, I will laugh in your face and recount the long list of quotes I have of Drunk Harry.”

“Everything I’ve said tonight has been perfectly reasonable."

“I’ll start with that one.”

“And I’ll have you know I managed to hold my own against an arse of a boy. He attempted in typical drunkard aggression to cop a feel, and I attempted to throw him on the ground. The difference between me and him, however, is that _I_ succeeded.”

She doesn’t realise Tony’s stopped walking until she’s finished talking. She gives Tony a confused frown. He’s playing with his jaw, expression unreadable. His hold on her becomes a bit overwhelming, though it’s not unpleasant.

“Where is he.” It comes out as more of a statement than a question. Harry shrugs, trying to see what’s made him upset. She kicked the boy’s arse, if she recalls.

“I left him with his mates, near the tent with the beer sign.”

“Right. Time to take a detour.” He swerves round a tad too sharply for Harry’s liking. Maybe she should walk?

“No, Tony, I dealt with it. The boy was drugged out his mind”-

“Yeah, I don’t listen to excuses.” He snaps, and Harry sighs, her face collapsing back into his neck. For someone that’s been sweating profusely all day, he still smells nice.

They don’t find the boy back at the beer sign. And when Tony kicks the beer sign, Harry lifts herself out of his arms.

“Yo, Pink Pixie Cut!” He hollers at a girl walking by with a friend. They stop walking and look at him with trepidation. Harry can relate. “You seen a drugged up piece of scum nearby? What did he look like Harry?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t remember Tony.” All she remembers is his eyes, really.

“You don’t- _Harry_!” His pitch makes her externally cringe, and she sees a flash of regret in his eyes when she looks at him. “I’m sorry. I’m- fucking _filth_.”

Harry nods in agreement, but Tony still doesn’t appear satisfied. He starts ranting, his body vibrating as if an alarm clock.

“Wow, okay, that’s fine. It’s all good, just, wow, look at me, being a jumble of emotions. There’s anger, yep, definitely feeling the anger aura. Confusion? Yeah there’s confusion in there, not gonna ask why, I’m not my own therapist. Or I am, I guess we’re all our own therapists in some existential way. Crap, I’m trying to be existential, this is embarrassing. God, when we met I was all like ‘I won’t duel for your honour,’ well check me, two weeks later, getting my fucking rage on some _asshole,_ who I mean, you duelled him yourself, which any other time I’d be all like, wow, badass, but right now, _Jesus_. I could punch something, you know, for a festival set around nature I can’t see one _fucking tree_ in my vicinity, what the fuck”-

He’s getting increasingly agitated, and the two girls he heckled have run away in part confusion and majority fear. Harry knows they won’t find the awful boy again, she knows the world can be nasty and unfair like that, and yeah, a few months ago that had enraged her- like Tony right now. He’s a cocktail of emotions; Harry wants to calm him down, because Happy Tony is Harry’s favourite Tony.

So she walks up to Tony, and without thinking too deeply into her actions, brings her lips to meet his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY this chapter was me UNLOADING ANGST n setting up future stuff cos this fic is in for the LONG HAUL GET YO ASSES IN GEAR I HAVE SHIT PLANNED
> 
> and jealous harry is a true vibe not even thor is worthy


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is a bag of stress and Harry accidentally triggers him time and time again whoops  
> Hes also never getting in an elevator again pray for tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After last chapter's angst diarrhoea I thought we'd have some constipated fluff?? 
> 
> I also love u guys did u know that?? Like I bitch about it ALL THE TIME to u but its TRUE so theres nothing I can do about it

It takes Tony a total of five seconds to comprehend what the fuck is happening.

One second he’s screeching random ranting shit which, okay, is a little melodramatic, but he’s pissed off and his foot hurts from having kicked that stupid bright yellow beer sign, so when something basically attaches itself to his lips it takes these five, very confusing seconds to realise that it’s _Harry_.

Harry. Is kissing _. Him_.

Oh my God.

He doesn’t know how to process this moment, because what is going _on_? Did he miss something? How drunk is she? Is _he_ drunk? Can you somehow get drunk from being around a drunk person? Well theoretically speaking the biology doesn’t add up as toxins being a form of contagio- what is this digression? The point is, is that she must be wasted to the point of having hallucinated him. He really shouldn’t be surprised that she’s gone _that_ far enough off the rails to throw her face at him, but here he is, and there _she_ is.

It’s nice though.

Although the first five seconds had him just _plastered_ in shock, the next five he, through no fault of his own whatsoever, _accidentally_ he also might add, melts into it. No tongue obviously, because hello? Self-restraint anyone? But he breathes Harry heavily in through his nose (Christ this is happening this is actually happening this is Harry this is _insane_ ) and he feels his stomach start producing butterflies which are just _flying_ the fuck around in his chest when Harry pleasantly sighs, her hands moving to smooth themselves into his hair. She smiles against his lips and begins to part her lips open- _woah_. He opens his eyes wide at that- when had they shut? _Crap_.

“Wha- _what_?” Is all he can say, his voice going back to those prepubescent years, not knowing what tone to pitch itself at, and he sharply pulls away. Harry blinks widely at him and stumbles forward when he forcefully backs up from her, which means that Tony being a gentleman, gently holds her hips in his hands. He’s surprised his hands have actually come through for him, his body feels like he’s numb with all these _thoughts_. He is 50% stressed out by Drunk Harry and 50%...something else. _Fuck_ his head can’t understand what’s going on, which is ironic since Harry’s the one who drank all the alcohol she could find and then went to every liquor store with a weapon. Okay, he’s being a bit harsh, but like he said, he’s stressed out right now.

“What- you- what _happened there_ Harry?” Jesus, he sounds like his old school principal when he was sent to his office for the pranks he pulled: part hesitation to ask, part admiration and majority bemusement, of course. (He pulled some iconic shit in his time, it was awesome, he’ll tell Harry all about it tomorrow. Wait, no he will _not_ , he’ll most likely die from shock before they actually manage to leave this festival which went south due to one asshole and a few words and Harry having this _senior moment_ when she decided to try and… _kill him_ , with her really, _really_ soft, lips.)

Harry looks put out, pouting and everything. Tony’s jaw has dropped to the ground and he’s pretty sure he’s swallowed flies, but Harry looks like a minor inconvenience just occurred with him stopping the kiss. Which is- she just- what just-

“I was kissing you. And you loved it, I _know_ you did, but you pulled back. What gives?”

What gives?

What gives.

What.

Gives.

He finds himself getting worked up, like he was before the…interruption? Like there was pure venomous rage (thinking about it can probably bring him back to his _rampage_ of a heated emotion, fucking _trash_ when he thinks of that pervert) and then _boom_ , nap time, anger goes away for a few seconds. And then Little Miss _What Gives_ over here opens her mouth and what does she say? Have a guess.

“What give- _what_? You can’t just- attack me with your mouth!”

“Attack? Unbelievable, Rhodey never taught you about what soldiers get up to in war, did he?” Harry scoffs defensively, though she’s still in his arms so he reckons she’s not that offended.

“Well that’s- shame on you! I was having a rant and you just- are you wearing lip gloss? I taste bubble-gum, or maybe cherry- I just- you!”

Harry gives him a look that screams ‘fucking _duh._ ’ “Well yes you were having a rant. That’s why I kissed you.”

Oh, _well then_.

“You kissed me to get me to shut up.” He says it more like a statement, and he shouldn’t be surprised really, cause even drunk that’s the only way he’ll ever get Harr- it doesn’t matter. Until Harry says her next words, then he’s just baffled.

“Well, that was only part of my reasoning.”

He’s many things, but a poet isn’t one of them. How the fuck does she expect him to interpret her words? He settles at a conclusion that makes sense.

“Yep, you’re wasted. Maybe you have a temperature too, it’s likely, I mean I can’t tell if you’re paler than usual since you look like you’re on the set of a _Tim Burton_ film. _Wow_ that’s actually really accurate, I’m surprised you haven’t been discovered yet.”

“I am _not_ wasted.” She declares hotly, bringing her finger and jabbing him in the chest. “I can prove it. I’ll sing the alphabet backwards, I _can_. My cousin threw a _fit_ when he found that out since he couldn’t, so I would hum the tune _all the time_. My own form of rebellion in that _damned_ household.” He doesn’t want her speaking about her past, because Normal (not that she’s ever been _normal_ , but in comparison it’s _stark_ , mind the pun), Harry is many things, but an open book isn’t one of them. Even though his interest is piqued and he is so very curious about her.

Before he can place his hand over her mouth, she begins to breathe heavily. He smells her breath- _man_ he may as well have kissed vomit personified, how did he not _notice_ that? Oral hygiene is essential, he wonders how that slipped his mind- her face goes considerably paler than her normal pale face, he’d call Tim Burton now more than ever. Even though it’s kind of terrifying, seeing her lose all her colour that quickly.

She then bends down and throws up on his shoes, which yeah. Vile.

Surprisingly, he’s not angry at that. And they were nice shoes.

Alright. Maybe a little…miffed. God, _miffed_ , he’s becoming _British_.

\----------------------

She ends up slung over his shoulder in attempts for him to control himself properly and focus on the situation at hand rather than have Harry in close proximity with his neck and therefore his face and therefore his lips. It doesn’t work too well.

“Oh, Tony, you have a wonderful arse.”

“Yeah, I know, been there heard that.”

“Some would say it’s… _spanking_.” She cackles at that, sounding like a mad woman but a hot mad woman who has a great set of lips.

Wait what?

“Whatever you say, Crazy.”

He hears her huff behind him, her arms dangling down and swinging to occasionally hit the back of his legs as they walk back to the car.

“I reckon I have a nice arse too.”

“It’s ten out of ten, would recommend to a friend.”

She gasps. “You wouldn’t!”

“I’ll get Rhodey on the phone in five. Ooh, maybe Abby has a cute guy friend. Yeah, you can wait five minutes, right?”

“You _bastard_!”

“Okay, fine _. Four_ minutes. Don’t wanna keep you on your toes, Haribo.”

“This is _mutiny_!”

“There’s nobody here _to_ mutiny.” Amusement seeps into his tone, because she may have thrown up all over his shoes, but she’s so cute that he can’t help but give her the time of day. This girl has a _way_ about her.

\--------------------

The hotel is even shittier than the first one they went to, but no five-star vicinity’s going to let Harry anywhere near the premises. Unless he decides to announce that Tony Stark wants a hotel room, but it’s weird, because in all the weeks they’ve been here Tony hasn’t been recognised once. He wonders if he’s actually famous at all, really, but then he remembers the photographers outside his house the day after the Crash. So yeah, he’s pretty sure he’s too famous for his own good.

The receptionist hands the room key over to Tony like he sees this crap every day, which makes him want to be a receptionist for the duration of Tony’s time in his presence.

When they get to the room, Harry’s gone quiet. He thinks she’s asleep, until he strains his ears and hears her singing a soft little melody. She’s a good singer.

“Cute song.”

“Not really.” Harry slurs. “I used to hear my aunt sing it to my cousin before he went to bed every night. I’d sing it to myself when I learnt the lyrics, but I decided it was an ugly song after a while. Everything becomes ugly after a while.” He places her on the bed gently, smoothing the few strands on her face behind her ears. Tony doesn’t want her to keep talking, not because he wants her to shut up, but.

She’s revealing too much that she’ll regret tomorrow, and Tony would hate to see her regret any of her time with him.

He is curious though. Did her parents never sing her lullabies? Why didn’t her aunt sing to her? He remembers a radio playing in _his_ childhood. He hopes she at least got a radio to send her to sleep.

He also remembers her talking about a damned household. He hopes the pieces he’s beginning to fit together actually don’t fit together at all.

“ _Someone’s_ decided to enter the philosophy game.” He notes, slowly taking off her shoes which are soaked in mud. Yeah, it’s definitely a good thing they didn’t go anywhere five star.

“And I disagree. I mean, sure people can become old and lose their looks, but other things remain beautiful.”

“Like what?” Harry asks curiously, looking at him with her bright green eyes, he’s entranced.

“Um, well. Like the inside of people? Take Rhodey for example, Rhodey has a shining soul, he’s one of the best people I know. And that won’t change, because he’s _Rhodey_.”

Harry takes this into consideration, and after a while, nods slowly, getting it. “Like you.”

“What?”

“You’ll never be ugly. Because your inside will always be beautiful.” She says it like it’s obvious. She’s way too drunk. And yet, something inside him swells, like seeds planted beginning to grow in the spring.

“You sound like a serial killer there, Harry Ba-Ba. Hold on, I’ll get you some water.”

When he comes back, she’s asleep, her mouth parted and the softest sound of air coming out. He quickly takes off her socks, because Harry gets uncomfortable sleeping in socks, and he gets a book out, sitting by her bed in case she decides to throw up again.

He looks at the words written in the book, but nothing goes through his mind except the phantom brush of lips against his own, and fingers lazily scratching through his hair.

\----------------

He sleeps a few hours (he doesn’t really need sleep, his mind tends to never want to just _stop_ for a second) and when he comes back to the hotel with drinks and food after a coffee run, Harry’s awake. She doesn’t clock he’s even there until he purposefully coughs and waves the bag of donuts, but when she does, her cheeks go slightly red.

“I remember…throwing up on your shoes.”

He grins and comes over to plop himself on the bed, handing her the coffee which she takes with a sour face. She prefers tea, but coffee works _wonders_.

“It’s a side I thought I’d never see from you. Green face, gigantic glazed eyes, and who can forget the grand finale. My shoes smell awesome, thanks for asking.”

“Tony.” Harry says earnestly, looking so guilty, like she’s committed first degree murder, or tax evasion, or something. “I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you more shoes.”

“Nah, I don’t need new shoes, I’ve got a ton of them, seriously look at my suitcase, it seems light but the amount in there, it’s like a TARDIS.”

“Even so.” Harry continues. “Thank you for taking care of me last night, I know it wasn’t ideal. And after my shower, I would love to go shopping with you and buy you a new pair of shoes.”

“It’s fine, Harry, I really”-

“Think of it as being for my benefit.” Harry interrupts, a playful glare morphing on her visage. She gets up without hearing his answer, which is very cocky Potter, very cocky indeed.

“Wait.” Tony says. She stops and turns to him, waiting. He doesn’t know how to phrase this. “You, uh. Remember anything else from last night?”

Harry thinks for a while, body tense as if ready for something, he’s not sure what. “I remember holding my own against an unpleasant boy.” Reign it in, Tony, reign it in. “Apart from that…no. No I don’t. Why? Did I do something wrong?

He’s not sure why he feels disappointment, but there it is, entrapping and prominent. He has to cough to release the shaky exhale that threatens to break through, and he forces a smile, so she won’t worry.

“Nope. You cracked a few awful jokes, commented on my _gorgeous_ ass, which, thank you very much. Apart from that, nope, nada, nothing at all.”

“Are you sure about that.” She presses, through slightly gritted teeth. It makes Tony raise an eyebrow.

“You alright?”

“On top of the world. Why would I pretend otherwise?” Harry snaps with bite. She goes to the bathroom swiftly with loud shut of the door, leaving Tony in a state of confusion.

\--------------

It’s him, Harry, and some woman in an elevator.

The shopping’s been unsuccessful. He can’t find any shoes that scream ‘Tony’ on them, he’s a picky shopper, what can he say. Harry’s even worse, she seems so out of her element in a store Tony’s convinced she’s never had a proper shopping spree. He feels like a Queen Bee in a soap opera: leading Harry around and claiming there’s so much to teach her in the ways of fashion. And yeah, he might be picky, but everything they’ve looked at Harry could ten out of ten pull off, so he’s surprised when she also comes out the trip empty handed. The woman in the elevator is a total one eighty, she’s brought so much (baby clothes he reckons, but he’s not about to call someone pregnant when they’re not, he learnt his lesson the hard way, he won’t go over it it was embarrassing) that Harry looks kind of shocked, like she’s not used to seeing someone with that many bags. Or maybe that a pregnant? Woman is _carrying_ that many bags. Each to their own, he figures.

“Do you need some help with those bags, Miss?” Harry asks the woman, causing Tony to feel kind of bad that that question didn’t cross his mind. And _he_ doesn’t have a hangover. But his mind has been jumbled for a couple of hours now. Harry’s been silent and with her own thoughts. Tony would ask what’s wrong, but when he looks at her his thoughts immediately turn to last night. It’s not unpleasant, but it makes his cheeks redden.

“No.” The woman snaps, and Tony’s exasperated because this road trip has seen them meet so many assholes he’s surprised neither he nor Harry have become one. Well, mostly Harry. He hasn’t decided his personality quirks yet.

“She was being nice.” Tony’s reaction is immediate, and Harry glances at him with gratitude flashing across her eyes, though she shakes her head in a communication that is clearly telling him to leave it.

Whoops.

The woman rolls her eyes, they really should have taken the stairs. “I can do it myself. If you could just mind your own business.”

“Kind of your own fault here, Miss ‘I’ll Buy the Whole Floor and Reject Kind Peoples’ Help.’ Cute name by the way, what is it Spanish or something?”

“Tony,” Harry says next to him in a low voice, giving him some sort of beseeching look. But pride is something Tony won’t shake off and she was rude to Harry, so fuck this due dated _ass_.

The woman brings her finger and waves it at him, and it looks like she’s about to say something that she _thinks_ will bite, but there’s a rumble in the elevator, the lights going off for a second. The elevator has stopped moving.

Oh, this is _great_.

“What happened?” Rude Woman asks, looking at both him and Harry with trepidation, not so tough now, _huh_? Harry shrugs, no attempts to give a shit in sight, and Tony groans aloud. “I think the elevator’s broken.”

“You can’t break an elevator!” Rude Woman snaps again. Before he speaks, Harry does.

“Well clearly you can. Please stop talking, my friend and I find you very unpleasant.”

Harry’s awesome.

Rude Woman looks like no one’s ever spoken to her like that before, and Tony thinks his day has officially been made. Harry presses the emergency button, they’ll probably have to wait around twenty minutes before help comes along, so Tony slides down the wall and sits down. It’s not too bad, Rude Woman’s stopped talking and is rubbing circles over her belly, so yay, he’s right, she’s pregnant, gold star for him and all that. Harry comes down to sit next to him and usually Tony hates the whole breaching personal space attitude, but he was going to move next to Harry if she sat far away from him, so she really just ends up saving him some time.

And then there’s a splash.

Harry and Tony both look at each other in confusion, before they look over to Rude Woman who’s still standing. Except she’s gone very pale, all heated anger removed from her cheeks, and she looks down to reveal there’s water on the floor right under her.

“Damned Potter luck,” Harry breathes out. Tony gets up and starts banging on the elevator.

\---------------

Twenty minutes have come and gone, and no help is in sight.

Rude Woman who’s apparently in _labour_ , fuck, Christ, shit, _damn it,_ is breathing heavily in and out while Harry rubs her hand up and down Rude Woman’s back. Tony’s on the phone.

“Yep, so if you could just bang the elevator wide open- well I don’t know, her water broke so I’m _assuming_ the baby’s due _today_ \- uh, the contractions are erratic? I don’t have my watch with me! How long- _twenty minutes_? That’s ridiculous- _hello_?”

He’s panicked and stressed out now but having a panic attack next to a woman in labour would be _so_ lame, so he begins to breathe the same way Rude Woman is to try and calm his nerves. Harry’s behind the woman, looking conflicted. What’s that look about? What’s she planning on doing, _stealing_ the baby?

“What’s that look on your face?”

“I’m debating something with myself.” She replies, becoming increasingly tense.

It’s not Harry, he knows that, but he’s getting riled up now, he’s getting _really_ riled. “Share with the class, Potter.”

“There’s something I could do.” Harry says as calmly as possible, but her voice is slightly strained, so Tony knows the peaceful mask is a load of _crap_.

“What? What could you _possibly_ do?”

“There’s something I could do,” she repeats sharply. “But I’ve been sworn to secrecy not to fucking _show it_!”

Flabbergasted is a word. Flabbergasted is also Tony. “What are you gonna do, whip out your _medical degree_? There’s a woman over here giving birth right now and you’re scared of being outed for who the fuck knows and cares?! Or are you joking, for the love of God tell me you’re trying to diffuse the tension or something.”

Harry’s glare is fierce, the literal embodiment of if looks could kill (he’d be turned on, he’s considered being turned on at this, but his survival instincts have kicked in, so.)

“We just need to wait for the ambulance to arrive. If they’re not here in less than ten minutes, I’ll resort to measures of my own.”

“Measures of your own?” Measures of her own?

“Will both of you shut the fuck up!” Rude Woman yells, and scratch that, if looks could kill this woman would have sacrificed them twice over in the name of her future child. “ _I_ am the one in labour here! Can’t believe I’m stuck in an elevator with damn _kids_.”

Harry immediately appears guilty. Tony doesn’t, but he’s sobered up from his haze of panic, so that’s reassuring.

“Start getting excited, think of the next eighteen years of your life being a metaphorical broken-down elevator.”

“Is there anything we can provide for you? Within the confines of an elevator of course.” Harry reiterates, ignoring Tony’s comment.

“I need a distraction. From the pain.” Rude Woman breathes out raggedly, glaring at Tony.

“Well you interrupted a solid gold argument to ask for a distraction, thought I’d let the irony not be lost on anyone.”

Harry puts a hand over her mouth, faking a cough to hide her sharp intake of laughter. Rude Woman has a slightly different reaction, bringing her volcanic eyes to survey both him and Harry.

“ _Shut_. The _fuck_. _Up._ ”

“How about we introduce ourselves.” Harry offers to the woman when she’s pulled herself together, providing Tony brilliant comedic material.

“Good idea. That’s plain old Harry, I’m Cuthbert.”

Harry rubs her hand over her eyes. He’s being a lot, he knows, but this is his own way of dealing.

Rude Woman eyes Tony with a speculative look. “You expect me to believe that crap?”

Tony levels her with a baffled look. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Your name’s _Cuthbert_.”

“You’re being kind of rude about my name, lady. Cuthbert’s original, you ever met another Cuthbert? Not to mention only the good looking can pull it off.”

Rude Woman’s face contorts in consideration and then in pain, Harry coming over and hushing her. She says something to the woman, and whatever she says works wonders, because the woman’s pain looks significantly eased. Before he can question it, he hears the familiar sound of an ambulance ringing.

“Thank _fuck_.”

\---------------

But of course, the day doesn’t end there.

“You’re seriously thinking about leaving me alone to give _birth_?” Rude Woman screeches at the top of her lungs as she’s put in the ambulance truck (she’s forgotten about her shopping bags, and Tony would be ecstatic about that but hello? Giving birth over here), and before Tony can say “yes”, Harry speaks for the both of them.

“Of course not! Come on Tony.” She gets inside the truck, and Tony thinks if his hair wanted to, it would go white this very second.

“There a father?” He asks once the ambulance is soaring ahead.

Rude Woman scoffs, but the pain in her eyes is unmistakeable. “Of course not.”

“You’re very brave.” Harry says honestly. “This looks rather painful. I don’t even want to imagine what you’re feeling.”

Rude Woman looks at the ceiling as if ignoring Harry. “Damn kids.” She mutters under her breath.

The rest of the drive to the hospital is in silence. Apart from the shrieks of pain obviously, but it’s so frequent Tony tunes out. He catches eye contact with Harry, who gives him a toothless smile, and he thinks that maybe if Harry gives the same look to Rude Woman, she wouldn’t be so miserable.

\----------

“I’m sorry, family only are allowed to be with the patient.” The nurse hastily says with a sympathetic expression. Tony’s a brilliant liar though, so it’s not an issue.

“No worries. I’m the father.”

“ _You’re_ the father Aren't you a little young?”

“My child is about to be introduced to this world and you’re trying to get me to tell you my life story?!”

He’s given access to go in with Rude Woman (he should really find out her name, damn.) but he realises what he’s about to do before he enters, and now it’s time for the biggest freak out, the season finale, the ultimate finale of all finales. He can’t help someone give _birth_!

He’s about to be frantic and do something like scream, or God forbid, _cry_ , when he feels a slight pressure on his shoulder. He turns to see Harry, peering at him through what could only be classified as concern.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

All he can do is nod his head vigorously.

Harry’s expression becomes that of determination. “I can come in with you.” He notices her reluctance very quickly though, which is understandable.

“But you don’t want to.”

Harry looks down at the floor, lips thinning in shame. “I- I don’t do well with blood.” She confesses. “But it’s not an issue. I don’t have to _look_ ”-

He doesn’t know what comes over him, but he places both his hands on her cheeks. She has nothing to be ashamed of, absolutely _nothing_. And although he has questions, because no seventeen-year-old should be terrified of blood as more than a shallow fear, he’s confident she’ll give him answers when she’s ready. He can wait.

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

\-----------

He’s- he sees _way too much_.

He wants Harry here.

\----------------

Getting out of the trauma that was his day is traumatic in itself. He’s swarmed by the hospital staff who congratulate him on being a father (it’s horrible since they all look at him like it’s some scandal: teenage boy impregnates significantly older woman. Maybe the real scandal is that the baby’s been called _Cuthbert_ , but hey, no judgment, free room and all.)

So he leaves the pregnancy ward in a haze, because he just saw things that he really never considered seeing and he decides that if he sees another pregnant woman for the next twenty years he’ll run the other way with his hands flapping mid-air, because he’s developed a phobia that will most likely keep him up at night for next _said_ twenty years.

There’s a chance he might be going off on a tangent. Don’t blame him, blame pregnant people just…unloading their babies into his life like a _fucking gum ball machine_.

Yet his thoughts calm down at a rapid speed when he gets to the waiting room and sees Harry. It’s been _five hours_ and Harry- she’s still here. She must sense his presence, since her eyes shoot up to meet his and they melt in relief.

“Hey.” Harry stands up and walks over to greet him, a little smile on her face, and Tony doesn’t realise he needed to see her until her arms wind around him and he automatically buries his nose into her hair. She smells just as he remembers from the time of his nightmare, and that is so comforting he doesn’t think he can express it into words. He wraps his own arms round her waist and squeezes her, he thinks a little too tight, but she makes no sound of disapproval, so he can’t bring himself to stop. Her head snuggles into his chest and for the next few minutes? He thinks minutes, he’s not sure, time is way too irrelevant right now- they just stand there in the middle of the hospital. No one in the crowded waiting room says anything, but when they finally pull away from each other (only slightly, arms are both still wrapped like a _freaking_ _birthday gift_ ) he sees gazes directed their way. He makes awkward eye contact with an old man who has some sort of wise, knowing look in his eye. He can’t deal with that right now, so he turns all his attention to the only nice thing in this hospital.

“I’m so proud of you,” Harry says, head poking up to look at him, her once small smile now a full-grown beam. His chest makes an odd thrumming sound, like there’s a drummer there playing a different beat. Good thing they’re at a hospital, in case he’s displaying warning signs of a heart attack or something.

“You know what? I kinda kicked ass in there, Potter.” He says honestly, actually proud of himself too.

“Yeah?” Her dimples peak out. It’s _lovely_.

“Yep. It was _disgusting_ , Harry. I’m in need of therapy, and I’ve never said that before. I’ve _thought_ it, never said it. _Damn_ , that was cathartic. We should go to Thailand, I considered the Buddhist life and had planned it over in my head with _Rhodey_ , but I guess you’ll make an exception, sure, whatever, you’re okay I guess.”

“I’m glad I made the cut.”

“Well, I had considered Abby, you see, but”-

He’s expecting the smack in the arm. He lets it happen.

“Ow! My arm! I need to get a nurse, you’ve probably broken it, _nurse_! This _savage_ ”-

Harry places her hand over his mouth so gently that something inside him melts. He puts that thought at the back of his mind, he’s got all the time in the world to deduce shit. He just saw a human being squished out of a _vagina_. How can two beautiful things have such a horrific confrontation?

Yeah, he definitely needs therapy. He wonders if they’ll let Harry in the therapist sessions with him. _What_? She’s got a great presence, he’d dig it if she decided to go on stage.

“I’ll forgive you, since you’ve had a trying day. For now, let’s sit you down, your legs are beginning to look like the jelly the nurses are providing in the cafeteria.” She guides him with her hand pressed behind his back in silent protection, and he sits down shakily. He’s surprised the chair he sits on doesn’t wobble with him.

Sitting next to him, Harry begins to speak. “How is… _what_ was her name?”

“No idea. After…it came out, she kicked me out. Found out the name of the baby though.”

“That’s exciting! What did she call the baby?”

“ _Cuthbert_. After _me_.”

Harry doesn’t respond, and when Tony looks at her, she’s shaking hysterically from laughter.

“It’s not _funny_. I just went through _trauma_. And then to top it off, I’m pretty sure my hand’s probably definitely broken by a lady whose name I’ve mentally been referring to as ‘Rude Woman’ squeezing my hand like she thought it was a lemon! The lemon was the cream of the cake, I saw _things_ Harry! _Horrible things_!”

Surprisingly, that just makes Harry laugh harder, tears pooling at the tips of her eyes.

He huffs, crossing his shoulders. “You know what, _Harriet_? If you decide to ever do that to yourself, I’ll be outside with unlimited cigars.” Like his father did, he doesn’t add. “You could be there ninety hours, I’d still puff those cigars without a care in the world. I’m _serious_.” He says when she won’t stop _laughing_ , what is _wrong_ with this girl?

“I- I’m gonna _pee myself_ ,” she finally gets out, wiping the tears off her cheeks. That brings a smile to his face, and soon they’re both _wheezing_ , Tony hunching over and clutching at his stomach in hysterics while Harry rests her head on his back. They probably look insane, having a fit in the waiting room of a hospital, but he doesn’t seem to be offending anyone. Actually, he looks over and sees an elderly couple exchanging a soft glance at them before turning to each other with the same expression. Thank _God_. He doesn’t think he’s in the right mental state to have to be apologising to anyone right this second.

They both calm down after a while, resuming their previous positions, and Tony’s mind feels like the skies cleared up after a thunderstorm or some shit. Time and time again he’s said he’s not good at English, but this metaphor fits, so he’s going with it.

“I did mean it though.” Harry tells him in a confident and pleasant tone. “I am proud of you. If that means anything. And I’m sorry I snapped at you. I was…embarrassed, and I lashed out. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, I snapped too. Women in labour _does_ things to people, like if the ring created in _Mordor_ was a person.”

“No.” Harry shakes her head, not speaking until their eyes reunite. “I’m sorry about this morning, when I stormed out.” She takes a deep inhalation, levelling Tony with a piercing stare.

“I remember last night, you see. And. And I was so _humiliated_ by my actions, so I pretended I had no memory of it. Humiliation translated to anger, I suppose, and I’ve never met someone so undeserving of anyone’s anger. So, yes. I’m _sorry_.”

Tony doesn’t know what to say to that. No one has _ever_ apologised with this level of sincerity. He feels like a computer that’s downloaded too much information. (Not any computer _he_ would make, mathematically speaking his software would be superior to an average piece of the useless junk usually made, but his point’s been made so take it or leave it.) He’s probably openly gaping at her, she doesn’t even need to say sorry since he didn’t really clock her rage, and yet it means _so much_ to him that she’s even thought about- about saying- wow.

“You didn’t have to say that.” Tony replies to her, and his voice couldn’t harden if he tried. Harry looks at him earnestly. Tony’s never felt so respected and appreciated in his life. He likes the sensation and wishes he could bottle the emotion up in his chest and save it for a rainy day when he needs it most. Or, he could make Harry feel the same way, because if _anyone_ should feel how he’s feeling right now, it’s her.

Harry shrugs, oblivious to what she’s done to him. “Even so. And I have a present for you.”

“Hospital jello’s not my cup of tea. Actually, I prefer coffee. Not my cup of black, sugarless coffee.”

“Oh _please_.” She scoffs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a careless gesture. “You enjoy coffee with milk and so much sugar I’m surprised the doctors here can’t _hear_ your blood pressure. Besides, I’m not giving you _jello_.”

“Wanna tell me what I’m getting then? I’m on the edge of my seat, it’s excruciating, I’m so on edge I could fall and break an arm or something, and think about _that_ Pot Scotch, the _hero_ who just helped a woman give birth”, he doesn’t even want to throw up at that, success! “Brutally injures all his limbs while villain, the cause of said hero’s suffering, sits back and watches with _vicious glee_. I’m not saying you’ll be _shunned_ by the nursing community, but let’s just say they won’t exactly be inviting you back to the hospital any time soon.”

“Nurses don’t invite people to the hospital, Tony.”

“Ah, so it’s happened to you before.”

“Anyway,” Harry interrupts, shaking her head in amused exasperation. “I was waiting for you to…give birth,” she snickers, he glares, “when I saw some broachers stacked on the wall over there.” She takes out a leaflet from her pocket, looking smug when he looks excited. “Well, you’re always bitching about how I’ve never seen _Star Wars_ , so when I saw the rerun was on tonight in a theatre twenty minutes from our hotel, I thought, why not? Tickets and popcorn are on me, of course. You’ve had a trying day and all.”

He must have been a _saint_ in his past life.

\----------------

The movie theatre is actually really busy, but it doesn’t seem to faze Harry. She queues patiently for the popcorn and the tickets, chatting with him amicably even when he starts to fiddle and drum his foot in anticipation. She also listens when he talks about the best Star Wars characters (Han Solo, _duh_ ) and the best movie out of the trilogy (Empire Strikes Back, _double duh_ \- his opinion is mainstream for a reason, get over it) and she even asks questions.

(“How would one even make a- what was it? Light ray?”

“Light _saber_ , I’ll forgive you for that since you’re new to the fandom, it’s all good. And it’s powered by a _kyber crystal_ , but strong Force users can power it at will, obviously.”

“Oh, yes, obviously. A stupid question really.”

“I reckon I could make one though, it’ll be easy enough if you use the right variables. You want one? I’ll make you one anytime, what colour- actually scratch that, I know what colour you want.”

“How do you know that?”

“The Force, Harry. Have you not been listening?”

“Was it the Force that helped you aid the woman in giving birth?”

“We’re not talking about that for another twenty years, _Harriet_.” )

\---------------

The movie starts, and it’s amazing (but he knew that already, reminding himself he’s still a genius) but his gaze annoyingly often starts trying to stray to Harry. At first, he thinks it’s to see her reactions to the iconic masterpiece. She seems to be enjoying it, nudging him in victory to tell him she’s glad she brought her contact lenses on the trip in order to read the opening crawl, and looking outraged when the droids are kidnapped and sold. (“My friend would be _raging_ at this moment. She campaigned _heavily_ against slavery.”)

He realises, after a while, that even though Star Wars is like, the best thing ever, he’s seen it a thousand times, and he’s been travelling with her for a little over two weeks, so he’s seen her much less. If anything, it would be rude if he didn’t give her time of day. So his glances to her become slightly more frequent, and he might be projecting, but he thinks Harry’s doing the same thing.

Both their arms are comfortably placed on the arm rests by their seats, and Tony begins to fidget when the thought of holding her hand flashes through his mind like wind blowing a leaf away: quick and unnoticeable to others, but now the leaf isn’t in the comfortable position it used to be in and things are beginning to change; how can he pretend the spot the leaf was in is still in that spot? He can’t hide the spot’s current position, he’s only wind for _fuck sake_! He’s also making _zero_ sense, which is alarming, and his thoughts are being loud and obnoxious but that can’t be helped. He then retreats from his mind only to notice his hand is no longer cold or fidgeting and he’s confused as to why. He finds out, however, when he sees his fingers intertwined with Harry’s, placed gently on one armchair as opposed to the previous two.

Harry’s hands are small and soft and practically mould into his like designed pottery. He looks at her in what can only be perceived as shock, which doesn’t recede even after Harry gives him a small wink his way when they cross gazes. He wonders if she’s feeling what he is right now: a frantically beating heart and nerves spilling all over his body like they want him to get up and dance, which right now he definitely could. He doesn’t want to ruin the film for Harry though, so he sits there in silence while his heart attempts to embarrass him by joining a fucking _samba_. This gets worse when Harry begins to stroke his hand with her thumb, back and forth to the beat of the music in the theatre. And there’s a _lot_ of music in Star Wars to thumb stroke.

There’s so much in his mind that’s chaotically swirling away, but he thinks, _why_? He’s just a boy who’s watching _Star Wars_ with the best girl he knows, and he’s pretty sure that might be every nerd’s wet dream, but this isn’t about anyone else. The kiss has been unspoken between them- even when they were basically talking about it- and it's an elephant in the room between them now but it's not an uncomfortable presence. He doesn’t know, doesn’t understand what goes through his mind when it comes to Harry, but their hands are intertwined, and the movie is amazing, so he lets all his problems go and his mind finally quietens as they watch the entertainment together.

When the movie ends, neither hand lets go of the other as they walk out the cinemas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hand porn and giving birth, a sentence I never thought i'd say
> 
> What r ur thoughts???? I wasn't sure about this whole chapter really, but one of my first ideas when wanting to write this fic was Tony and Harry stuck in an elevator with a woman in labour (my mind GOES places fam) so I HAD to write it i dont understand myself either but meh haters gonna hate potatoes gonna potate


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harrys all why is my life like diss??? And Tony's like woman do you expect me to know?? Also there's a cold shower and stuff
> 
> Did i mention I'm not good at writing summaries?? No?? I guess its implied in my summaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LIKE WHAT THE HELL IS THE RESPONSE TO THIS STORY YOU GUYS HAVE MADE ME SMILE SO MUCH I LOVE YOU ALL HAVE I MENTIONED THAT NOOOO???? FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU
> 
> *awkward coughing* who said that?? What a loser lol
> 
> ALSO!! Any quotes you recognise from the MCU!!! NOT ME!!

“Oh my God.” Tony groans aloud, inspecting the engine which has smoke fuming from it. “A broken car in the middle of nowhere? This is how a horror movie starts. And that means I’m the first to go, everyone knows it’s always the girl who survives. Trade lives with me?”

“Nah,” Harry shakes her head, even though this whole broken car debacle is slightly worrying. “Someone has to take one for the team, and you’re a team player at heart, so thanks Tony, for sacrificing yourself for a just cause.”

She’s under the suspicion that Tony is rubbing some of his personality off on her.

Tony huffs, placing his hands on his hips in consideration. “Please, I’m the genius of this comedic duo. I can totally fix this car in under an hour. I can even give it a fancy upgrade, probably help make the audio in the car at a louder sound volume. So, while you are brutally murdered by some creepy ghost child, I will be happily singing in the fixed car with my upgraded, annoyingly loud speakers. _Ha_.”

Harry considers their surroundings. It’s cold, not as cold as when they were in North Dakota last week, but still _really_ chilly. She had thought Scotland was bad, and looking back on that, she has the urge to laugh like a fool. Not only is it cold but it is also foggy, as if something could just pop out from nowhere. So yes, Tony might actually be right about this.

Harry thinks of her wand that’s tucked safely in her bag. If something were to come out of nowhere, they would be fine, Harry would make sure of it. Still, even if one has the power to get rid of something, it doesn’t necessarily mean they want to _use_ it. Shaking her head at where her thoughts apparently want to go, she approaches Tony, who’s still checking the engine with a sour pout on his face. It’s so wholesome Harry has the urge to hug him tight. Instead, she takes his hand and laces it with hers, loving the way he perks up at the sudden intake of warmth, and, well. Her holding his hand.

It’s a new development, something that happened two weeks ago at the movies. It was impulse that made her do it, and she hasn’t regretted a second of it. What she has regretted, is the fact that, while the hand holding is lovely and something they do every day now, nothing else has come of it.

It’s irritating.

There’s so much Harry wants to do apart from holding his hand. It’s not even supposed to be something sexual (that’s actually an entirely different matter), but every now and then she has this urge to kiss him, and-

Well, she’s a coward. How could she face her death, how could she battle Tom? And yet the idea of pecking a pair of lips is where she crosses the line? It’s incredibly frustrating. Eventually, she has to speak to get all those pesky thoughts from her mind, which is so tired of thinking of _that_ bloody topic.

“We should walk around. See if there are any houses near by.”

Tony looks at her as if she’s _insane_. “Are you aware that’s how every horror movie starts? Teenagers, broken down car, no houses in sight. If a middle aged perverted looking man opens a door to an isolated house, I’m running for my life. You can tag along, I suppose.”

“I’m happy I was the priority in your escape plan.” Harry says in a monotone voice, taking his hand and dragging him along the foggy street.

\------------------

They find an isolated house in the middle of a foggy street.

“Sweet Jesus.” Tony whispers, more to himself than her, and Harry gives him a reassuring squeeze that he reciprocates for a much longer amount of time. “This is the worst idea you’ve ever had. Worse than wanting to climb that mountain in Montana.”

“That was _your_ idea.” Harry informs him.

“And now you have memory loss, this is just _great_.”

Harry doesn’t reply, she just rings on the doorbell. When she looks at Tony, she notices his face is dumbfounded.

“She’s insane.” Tony hisses, “That’s the plot twist of the horror movie. The main character’s friend was in on it. Oh my God it all makes sense now. All movie villains are British- this is too clever, I wish I had a phone.”

Before she can do anything, like roll her eyes, for instance, the door opens. Out of it comes out a middle-aged man.

Harry holds Tony’s hand tight to prevent him from fleeing the scene.

“Hi, we’re so sorry, our car broke down. We were wondering if we could borrow some tools to fix it? We’ll give them back, of course.” She hastily says when the man says nothing. He has grey hair and stubble, and he looks very fit for a man who seems to be around fifty.

“Molly!” He calls behind his shoulder, waiting in silence until ‘Molly’ arrives. Next to her, Tony is whispering in her ear. “I can totally make a screwdriver, it might take more than a couple of hours, but patience is a virtue.” Harry sticks her tongue out at him, which he mirrors back with a funny face, and soon it’s a tongue war, if that’s even a thing. It only stops when there’s a clearing of the throat, and they see a woman at the door. She has grey hair wrapped in a bun, wearing very conservative grey clothes that wrap delicately around her figure. The lady has a kind face and seems to appear nice enough, so Harry no longer shares part agreement that they may be in a horror movie. But unlike her Molly back home, the one who would knit her jumpers and rubbed her cheeks when it was cold, this Molly lacks the warmth in her eyes that she misses so very much. Tony's still squeezing her hand though, it grounds her considerably from the caging feeling of being homesick.

“Can I help you?” Molly asks.

“They need tools for their broken car.” The man tells her, looking at them speculatively. Harry feels as if she’s under a microscope, but it’s not too overwhelming.

The woman gasps. “Of course! We’ll give you what you need to get on the road. Oh! But the sun is setting. Why don’t you stay here for tonight? We have a spare room since our Charles went off to college. We don’t want two youngsters like yourselves alone fixing cars, or Lord forbid, driving, in the dead of night. How about we help you when the sun is up?”

Surprisingly, it’s Tony that speaks first.

“Do you have food?” Harry rolls her eyes.

“Oh yes indeed! And our daughter even baked a cake!”

Tony nods, at a decision already. He pulls Harry’s hand as they walk in the house. “Sold.”

\--------------------

Harry has sat through many awkward meals in her time.

Up until now, the worst was probably meeting Cedric’s father. For a while he had seen Harry as little more than competition for Cedric, so him not liking her was understandable if not a bit rude. Conversation then had been _challenging_ , to say the least, and Cedric had sweated profusely. Harry had discovered wine. So, looking back, yes, that was most likely the most awkward meal Harry had been through.

Until now.

They all sit on one large table, and the family stare at Harry and Tony as if they are a completely different species. Time usually goes by so quickly when she’s with Tony, and she wishes it could right now, because this is simply unbearable. Plus, she can feel Tony trying not to smugly tell Harry that they’re in a horror movie right now, and Harry really doesn’t need the reminder. Not when she sees this crystal clearly, and honestly, she’s one creepy stare away from taking her wand from her bag and going nuts on these people.

Simon (“Call me Simon, Mr Trell makes me feel my age”) breaks the ice. “So, what are your names?” A rush of victory comes over Harry whenever she’s reminded of the wordless enchantment she used to make Tony unrecognisable, though she does feel guilty for having used magic on Tony- it’s not a discussion in her mind that has ever gone over well. Before Tony can give Sarah some dreadful name (that perhaps Simon will call his future child, Harry still finds herself wanting to cackle hysterically at that thought), Harry takes charge.

“This is Ross. I’m Rachel.” She smiles, turning to Tony with a satisfied smug look on her face when she sees his shock at her pop culture reference.

Sarah, their little girl, squeals, clapping her hands together. “Like in _Friends_!”

“I know! How weird is that!”

“Oh yeah? What’s _Friends_ about, _Rachel_?”

Harry looks at Tony as if he’s asinine. “ _Friends_ , Ross.”

Molly bounces in the room, balancing a plate loaded with a whole chicken while beaming and looking a tad boastful at her success. She places it on the table and eyes in Harry. “Ladies first!”

“Oh, no,” Harry assures her. “Serve yourself first, please. It’s the least I can offer, you’ve been so good to us.”

Molly tuts, peering at her disapprovingly. “The guests will be served first. Anything else would be impolite.”

Before things can really deteriorate, Tony steps in. “Okay then, serve me up. _Rachel_ and I haven’t eaten all day, we could eat a horse. Is this horse? I mean, it looks like chicken, but no shame in eating a horse. In China they eat dogs, which is inhumane- unless this is dog?”

Discretely, Harry taps Tony’s legs. She hates shutting him up, but at the rate he’s going, she wouldn’t be surprised if there was an attempt on his life.

“It’s chicken.” Molly smiles tightly, serving him his meal. When everyone’s been served, no one says anything still, until the family pray.

While the prayer is happening, Harry is confused. Should she pray with them? Is that the etiquette here? She’s never been religious, not in that she’s refused to believe anything but that due to her hectic life style, she never had the time to think of the concept. She remembers people in Privet Drive attending Church, should she have? She feels even more awkward being at a loss at what to do, so like most of what she does these days, she turns to Tony. He catches her eye and raises his eyebrows, giving her a look that she can translate so easily. It says, ‘no prayer, Potter? How rude to these lovely hosts that may or may not be serial killers.’ She huffs out a small laugh, and when Molly's eyes immediately snap to hers at that, Harry fakes a cough and rubs her throat as if in pain.

“So,” Simon says when they start to eat, pointing his fork at Tony and Harry. “You two related?” Beside him, Molly emits a short snort.

“Obviously they’re brother and sister.” Sarah puts in. “They look _identical_.”

“We most certainly do _not_.” A voice snaps, and it takes a few seconds to realise that those words came out of her mouth. _Oh_.

Opposite her Sarah blinks. Next to her, Tony nods vigorously.

“I don’t get that logic. How do we look alike? Seriously, get me a notepad or something and write out these similarities, I’m dead serious. Is it the hair? Her hair is pitch black and mine is like, _sooty,_ so that can’t be it. Face shape: no, mouth, _no_ , eyes, you’re _kidding_ if you say yes to _that_. Come on, get that notepad, we can make a list on things I need to change.”

Harry gives him a surprised and very unimpressed look. “How’s that now?”

It seems Tony realises what hole he’s beginning to dig himself into, as he backtracks very quickly. “Not that I wouldn’t wanna look like you. You’re- you know you’re gorgeous, cross my heart hope to die- but I don’t want to think of _me_ when I look at _you_. I haven’t so far- why would”-

He clocks the small smile on her face. Honestly, for someone whose been travelling with her for a month now, and a supposed certified genius, it still takes an inordinately long time for the poor bloke to realise she’s messing with him.

“I see how it is.” He smirks, adjusting himself in his seat as if mentally preparing for what he’s about to do, oh _no_. “Game on.”

“We’re sorry if we caused any offence.” Molly tells them sincerely after a while, but she seems to be more interested in her spinach than Tony or Harry, so she doesn’t think that’s quite true after all.

“Oh it’s fine, really. I just don’t want people to confuse my husband with my relative!” And then Harry does a laugh so high pitched and ridiculous that it makes Tony splutter out his water through his nose. Game on indeed.

“Oh, you’re married.” That reassures Molly, who ignores Tony’s nose incident completely, until she spots Harry’s left hand. Then her mouth forms a pinched line. “Where’s the ring?”

“It wouldn’t fit on her chubby, manly sausages that call themselves fingers.” Tony comments lightly, dabbing cloth on his nose. “And believe me, we tried _every_ finger. Even the little pinkie had issues. Now I’m not saying we’re gonna have to get a ring severely custom made, but let’s just say all the jewellers where we’re from are at, and to quote, a ‘professional loss’”.

Well, if that’s how he wants to play.

“Sadly, that’s true. It’s weird though, since the ring was too _big_ for Tony’s delicate, princess like fingers. He was the envy of all the women buying engagement rings that day.”

“No worries though, may have dainty fingers, but everything else is large, _believe_ me.”

“Anyways,” Molly clearly prefers the sound of her own voice, but, fair enough, her and Tony do talk a _lot_. And about things that some people don’t want to hear. “Considering you’re married, we want to make clear that, under no circumstances, are we to hear the sound of…. _expressing love_ , for one another. And not in the way I tell Simon that I love him more than the earth,” their hands enfold around each other brightly for everyone to see, “but in the way a newfound husband and wife…enjoy their company.”

It takes two seconds for Harry to realise what they’re talking about. When she clocks it, her cheeks flare, and beside her, Tony coughs loudly and shuffles in his seat, as if he hadn't been joking about size a few seconds ago.

“Right, yeah, we can control ourselves for a night, right Ha- Rachel? It’ll be easier for me, _Rachel_ here is like Satan made her in his lab.”

“Women are difficult to maintain.” Molly nods solemnly, causing Harry to double take.

“What was that?”

Molly emits a soft exhale. “Right, time to show you to your rooms for the night. I’ll first take Sarah to bed. Ah, also, we apologise for the lack of hot water in this household, we’re currently undergoing some plumbing. Wait here while we take Sarah up.” When the family leaves the room, Tony turns to her with a severe expression.

“Want me to say something? We can sleep in the car, I don’t care, I can go off at them. Besides, I was promised cake which I wasn’t given, so they’re not in my good books either.”

Harry shakes her head. “It wouldn’t be up to you to say anything, it would be for me.”

Tony’s look is fond and knowing. “I get that. But I don’t want anyone _dying_ in this household, cause, you know, lawyers are expensive. Best get the more charming one in this little team to sort the negotiating out.”

Harry lets out a small chuckle, and Tony’ expression morphs into achievement, like he accomplished a goal he set out to do.

“Oh, and, quick question.”

“Yeah?”

“How did _you_ know about _Friends_?”

“Um, _the Force_ , Ross. _Duh_.”

\-------------------

Molly and Simon practically lock them in their rooms at nine o’clock, saying it is time for bed.

Tony voices the idea that they might be preparing for the _sacrifice_ , which in turn pisses Harry off and makes her very wary. She figures they poisoned their food at dinner or drugged them, and yet a wordless spell indicated during dinner that that was not the case. She’s starting to suspect they’re not serial killers after all. But, better safe than sorry.

Harry is still a bit miffed by Molly’s comment. So, when the door shuts, Harry decides to have a teeny, tiny, revenge plan. (Nothing too extreme, they _are_ sleeping in their house for the night, after all.)

“ _Oh_! Oh _Ross_!” She calls out in a moan very, very loudly. Tony’s head whips around to stare at her, and in all her time with him he has never looked so shocked, like he thinks she’s gone mental. His eyes have actually widened, and his mouth is softly parted. “Oh _Ross!_ Harder _Ross_! _Harder_!”

She gives Tony an urging look, miming someone calling out and making a face. He snaps out of whatever reverie was going through his mind and his mouth closes with an audible _click_.

“Come on _Rachel_! Come _on_!” His voice is hoarse and gravelly, and Harry knows that this is a joke, that it’s supposed to be funny. But hearing him make that kind of noise has _sky rocketed_ any and all tension they had together in this small room. Her face has gone blotchy, and it may be the trick of the light, but Tony’s eyes have darkened considerably.

“That’s _it_ Ross! Almost there! Al”-

The door opens with a bang, Molly looking as if she’s been caught on fire. Her mouth is open as if she was about to shout. _Perfect_.

“Ah, Molly, good to see you. We were having some issues opening our suitcase, we just have to use our strength a little _harder_. I’m sorry, were we being too loud?” The smile she gives the woman is sweet and full of life, and the glare she receives in return is absolutely _priceless_.

When the door slams shut, Harry turns to Tony with a victorious expression. Not before seeing that Tony is as still as a statue.

“Tony?”

“Wha- Oh, um, I’m gonna go. Take a shower. Love hygiene- can’t live without that hygiene. He walks to open the door with a rapid pace.

“Of course. Oh, remember that Molly said there was no hot water for the time being,” Harry tells Tony just as he’s a foot away from having left the room.

“That’s fine.” Tony says a little too quickly, eyes looking up at the ceiling. “That is _so_ fine.”

He takes an awfully long time in the shower, Harry notes, which is odd. Who would want to spend twenty minutes in a freezing shower?

\------------------------

The bed is incredibly large.

That doesn’t bother Harry. If anything, it could be seen as rather amusing, it’s a tiny room with a massive bed, and it should be comical. It really should.

But, if Harry and Tony are going to be sleeping on one bed, she doesn’t think she can control herself. She wants to curl up against him, she wants to send a direct ‘fuck you’ to personal space. They’ve only shared a bed once, when Tony had his nightmare, and all the other times they’ve managed to secure two beds, which Harry never _loved_ , really, but as long as Tony was comfortable. And yes, she knows she’s rambling, but her point is that she doesn’t want to spend the whole night with a solid ache in her chest at what she wants but simply can’t have. Not at this moment in time.

“So, which side do you want? You’re a left sider, aren’t you? Wait, why am I asking, I _know_ this, you totally are. Weirdo, right side all the way, don’t know what they taught you in school.”

“Wow, your school sounds incredibly mellow if that was what was on your syllabus.”

Tony jumps on the right side of the bed, tucking his hands under his head and gazing at her with a sloppy grin. She immediately grins back, of course.

“Nah, it was boring as hell. If hell was filled with strict teachers and monotone learning rather than the whole, ‘fiery depths’ people are always banging on about. What about you?”

Harry almost gets herself lost in that question. Her initial thought on what her answer should be even to her own mind sounds vague and secretive, so she decides to incorporate some honesty.

“Boarding school up in Scotland. _Definitely_ not boring.”

“Oh yeah?” His face brightens considerably. “I bet you were a troublemaker. Don’t even deny it, Potter, I’ll hold it against you in court.”

“The world should live in fear if you decide to become any role in the court room.”

“Someone’s purposefully not answering my brilliant Oprah levelled question.” He gives her a knowing look.

She huffs, trying to contain her giggle. “I suppose I got into trouble once or twice. Maybe a few more times than that.”

It’s Tony who ends up giggling, it’s a rare sound from him so she treasures the moment deeply. “I called it! Who’s the genius? I bet you did some wild shit, I’m expecting a story now, come on, story time, hop on the bed.”

Harry jumps on the bed herself, but she goes nowhere near the left side. Instead, Harry decides to be bold, to go as close to Tony as possible before he says something that has her going to her side. She ends up considerably near him, and when she hears silence, that has her regretting her decision. Before she can move her muscles, she feels two arms softly take hold of her waist and her whole-body heaves to Tony’s side, her head resting on his chest and their legs intertwined. It’s just what she wanted, and she finds herself feeling as if she’s just drank some champagne. Internally her body is practically exploding with tension as if she herself is one large firework. Under the palm of her hand, she can feel an erratic thump that’s trying to come out of Tony’s chest. When she finally looks at Tony, he’s wearing a small, soft smile.

“Yeah, you’re right, this place is freezing. Preserving heat’s the only way to go.”

It’s a warm temperature in the room, but Harry finds herself nodding. “I’m glad you understand my plight to survive.”

Tony’s grin enlarges. “Damn straight.”

\---------------------

“They’re sweet,” Harry comments idly after a few minutes, her head practically stuffed into Tony’s shirt. She’s surprised he can hear her through the muffles. “Simon and Molly. I mean, there is a chance they’re murderers and have a few _outdated comments_ , but they’re good to each other.”

“Meh. Too cheesy, packing in on the PDA.”

“The what?”

“Public Displays of Affection. Damn, I sometimes wonder how you went by life without my guidance. Though there is a ninety per cent chance we’re gonna pop our clogs, so maybe I wasn’t the best influence after all.”

“You’re my favourite influence.” Harry may have never met Howard Stark, but she is still able to dislike the man for completely shredding any self-esteem Tony ever had. She intends to remedy it by showing Tony how wonderful it is. It’s taking time, but Harry has quite a lot of patience. She’s had to wait a lot.

“Yeah, but that’s what drug dealers say about their stash, it’s unhealthy, really Haribo, if we had a damn car I’d drive you to the hospital.”

“Ah, I see. Is the hospital speaking to you, Tony? Perhaps you’re missing your calling as a mid-wife.”

A hand covers her mouth. “What happened to not talk about that for another twenty years?” He releases his hand. “Ew, saliva! That’s disgusting Potter! I could have _cooties_!”

“We probably both have cooties,” Harry ponders. “My chicken was a bit pink.”

“They’re trying to kill us alright. Or maybe that’s karma from all of your mean jokes. I’ve been travelling with a _bully_ for a month, I deserve an award, a medal, a round of applause for my bravery.”

It’s Harry’s turn to move her hand to cover his mouth. She moves from her position, but she clumsily moves upwards to the point where her face is practically reaching his. All of a sudden, the air in the room changes, becoming static and heated and Harry is immediately thrown. She stares at Tony, at his big brown eyes, but she can’t help but linger back and forth from his eyes to his lips. She remembers how they felt against her own, how they were soft and sweet and _right_. And from the way that she catches Tony glancing from her own eyes to her mouth, she knows he’s thinking the same thing.

Harry doesn’t know how long this lasts for. All she’s thinking is whether or not she can take the step and just kiss him. She’s done it before! She knows the consequences of her actions, she knows that Tony wants what she wants, but it’s so much _easier_ said than done. She’s a coward, people think she’s not, but she _is_. Maybe if she’d been braver more people would be alive. This was a thought that occurred to her after Sirius’ death. This was a thought that occurred to her after Hermione. Merlin, she’s thinking about death while debating if she should kiss Tony! This isn’t normal, Tony doesn’t deserve that. So, knowing she will regret her next words, she speaks them anyways.

“Why were they cheesy?”

“What?” Tony is thrown, like she’s dunked ice water over his head. His eyes clear as if waking up from a dream, and he sits up from where he was lying. He takes her with him though, the only difference being the place of their heads are now further away from each other. Harry misses the atmosphere of Tony so terribly, even when her body’s essentially moulded into his. She wants to forget about what she’s saying and just _fucking kiss him_ , but she ploughs through her words as if they’re important. They’re _not_.

“Simon and Molly. Why were they cheesy? They weren’t even performing any serious ‘PDA’.”

Tony shrugs, one of his fingers drawing shapes on her back. She believes him to be spelling out her name, though she can’t identify the other words he writes.

“Ah, just how they speak. I hate when people overstate things.”

That makes Harry frown. “What do you mean?”

“Well.” He looks at everything but Harry, and she knows he’s now shy, but she doesn’t understand why that is. “Molly was like, ‘I love you more than I love the world’, which, yeah, cool, great, _swell_ even. But why have someone tell you that? I prefer something lower key, something that doesn’t over exaggerate, if anything something that _under_ exaggerates. Is that a word? I’ll make it a word.”

“Like what? Give me an example,” Harry presses, wanting to hear more.

“Ooh, Sassy Harry, one of my favourites.” She pinches his arm, he continues. “I don’t know. Oh! Yeah! ‘You’re alright’, that’s a good one. Layered and everything.”

Harry doesn’t usually splutter. “That’s terrible! That’s not even an under exaggeration, which _is_ a word by the way. If anything, that’s disliking someone and trying to be nice!”

“It’s better than, I love you more than the world. What the hell is that? I love the world more than anything because I’m logical. Without the world the people I love wouldn’t be in it. So, dumb statement Molly, buy a dictionary before you start getting all cocky about your love.”

“You’re so utterly ridiculous,” Harry hides her face so he can’t see her smile, though he obviously hears her laughter peek through. He doesn’t say much after that, a _change_ really. He keeps drawing things on her back.

“Tony,” she whispers after a few minutes.

“Mmm?”

“If they murder us, I’ll go first. So you can attempt to run away, of course.”

“Aw, Hare-Bear! I knew you’d come through!”

“Though you’d have to owe me.’

“Yeah, considering you’d be dead, I’m happy to go with that.”

Harry snorts loudly. “If you think for one second I won’t haunt you as a ghost, then you’re not the genius I thought you were.”

Instead of the laugh she thinks she’d receive, Tony speaks again. This time, his voice is hesitant and the quietest she’s ever heard.

“Harry?”

“Mmm?” She mirrors.

“You know…you know you’re alright. Right?”

When Harry looks up at him, his eyes are crinkled at the corners, and yet they are serious, as if he wants the message ingrained within her. She hopes her answering beam is enough.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

\------------------

That night, Harry has the most vivid dream she’s had since Tom was still alive.

But it doesn’t feel like a dream. Pictures come at her in waves of colour and warning, and they flow around her as if just out of reach.

She sees a man in a red cape, forming an orange volcanic circle in mid air with his hands alone. She sees a green stomping creature roaring furiously, she sees a man dressed in emerald, gliding about the earth as if he owns it. She sees a flash of purple, and a blink of gold so bright that she flinches.

There are words.

(“There was an idea to bring together a group of remarkable people, to see if we could become something more.”)

(“I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they’re from.”)

(“I have an army.”

“You know you’re boasting right after you met my _wife_ , right? Do you honestly see yourself in a position to boast right now?”)

(“Cause if we can’t protect the Earth, you can be damn sure we’ll avenge it.”)

(“The world has changed and none of us can go back. All we can do is our best, and sometimes the best that we can do is to start over.”)

(“Dude you’re embarrassing me in front of the wizards. Where’s Harry, she’ll salvage my rep.”)

(“I don’t wanna go.”)

(“This is the fight of our lives. We are going to win. Whatever it takes.”)

The gold returns and it’s everywhere, it surrounds her like a room filled with walls that are edging in and she can’t break free, can’t move, it’s suffocating, and she wants to scream there are words and pictures and flashes and it’s all a warning-

“Balancing the universe will never be considered an enjoyable task. And yet, had I known you were real, I would have eradicated my previous conquests with _glee_.”

Harry wakes with a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fam if your car crashes n there's one house in sight w a strange man u dont know my advice to u is to sleep in the car even if there's free food


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Harry are both petty as shit and that's an issue for like five minutes until theres a lake and things get frisky and then dodgy and then youll have to read the next chapter WHOOPS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait guys!!!!! I've been BUSY (excuse of the year goes to....drumroll please......) and then I had WRITERS BLOCK which is DISGUSTING i hate it i hate it i hate it
> 
> ANYWAYS writers block is GONE haHA and to make up for being lost off the face of the earth I'll send another chapter to u shortly because i love all of you dearly

See, for Tony, most things around him happen at a rapid pace.

He’s not aiming for the Drama Queen angle, but it’s true. Life is usually not boring for him; things just occur so damn quick he feels like he’s in a movie montage or something. Childhood: a compilation of Howard’s approval and attention seeking. College: a blur of drinking and being academically superior to his fellow students. Post-Crash: the constant feeling of falling, feeling like Alice in Wonderland without the blonde hair and spunky blue dress. Meeting Harry: a waterfall of new emotions, like a bottle of sensations spilling over.

 _But_.

The thing is, even though he loves driving, when he drives for an excruciating amount of time, minutes feel way too _long_.

‘But Tony, if you hate driving for hours, why did you agree to go on a road trip?’ Asks every annoying person _ever_. Who have clearly, a.) never been in a car staring as the streets go by or b.) never had a conversation with one Harriet Potter. So honestly, these people have been missing out.

Yep, okay, he’s gotten off topic. His point is, is that they’ve been driving for five hours straight once he’d fixed the car and they’d gotten the fuck out of Adams Family Haunted House Point Two before those creeps had gotten the chance to, he doesn’t know, stab them or something. It’s been five straight hours, and even with the music blaring and Harry’s peaceful aura going on, he’s still managed to become restless and agitated and he wants to stop driving so he doesn’t hate all the awesome cars he just _knows_ he’ll buy in the future. And besides, ever since this morning Harry’s decided to be Silent Sally, so she’s not helping his mood at _all_.

Tony decides that they’re stopping soon, because he’s part selfish and bored and majority in one of his newfound moods where he needs to be the centre of Harry’s attention. (That’s most of the time these days, because, like he said, have a conversation with Harry.)

“Yo, Potter.” He starts, and Harry gets out of her head for a second to give him a stare, her green eyes slightly glazed, which just won’t _do_. “Wanna stop to pee? I could pee, I downed a coffee like two hours ago, so that’s probably gonna kick in soon enough. What’d you say, you, me, couple of empty bladders? And I’ll buy some snacks. Ooh, a Twinkie for me, I’ve been craving a Twinkie for the past few hours.”

“It’s good to see your will-power is growing,” Harry comments idly. “The memory of you entering the hot dog eating contest is still ingrained in my mind. I don’t think I can _look_ at mustard without feeling nauseous.”

“You and me both Harpo. And let’s not talk about that tragedy. _Fifth_ place? _Sixteen_ hotdogs in _five minutes_ is not _fifth_ place material. The fact I didn’t even get a _medal_ \- alright I’m done, I’m done. Rather not go down that particular lane. Again.”

Now, usually this would get a positive reaction from Harry. He’s expecting a chuckle, maybe if he’s really lucky he’ll see her head tip back and one of throaty husky laughs coming into play. But all he’s given is a slight smile, before she resumes her old position and stares out the window of the car. Tony’s no _Sherlock_ , per se, but he knows that this is all a tad concerning, which obviously means something’s _wrong_. And he’s not one to beat around the bush.

“What’s wrong?” _There_.

Harry turns round to him once more, but from the corner of his eye she’s got that look in hers, the defensive one when they first met, and he is so not going back to the time where they both had Stranger Danger with each other. So he gets his metaphorical foot, and decides to shove it in his mouth.

“You’re in a whole other planet there, which, fair enough, earth can sometimes smell like dirt and oxygen, which, _ew_ , but if you’re hauling ass, take me with you? Pretty boring being left here on earth alone. With all the dirt and oxygen.”

“What does _oxygen_ smell like Tony?” Harry asks softly, bringing her knees to where her stomach is.

“That’s a pretty ignorant question, but I’ll let you off the hook. You’ve been lost in that old noggin of yours for some time.”

“I thought I was on a planet?”

“Your mind is _totally_ a planet. I have no idea what goes on in there, it sounds ridiculously cool but it’s probably _super_ weird. Like those people we met in our very own horror movie. Gracefully aging, legit food, but creepy as hell.”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at.” Harry’s playing along, which is an improvement and that’s dandy. But she hasn’t laughed yet, and it’s _so_ easy to make Harry laugh apart from now, so being the Mental Knight in Shining Armor (has someone used that title? He should trademark that while he has the chance) that he is, Tony finds a place on the street they’ve arrived at and parks the car swiftly. He _so_ earned his drivers permit, fact of the day, but now his attention is solely on Harry, so that fact means jack shit. Harry, meanwhile, has both eyebrows raised and her lips have subtly parted. Tony can make out a glimmer of white that is her teeth, and then has to stare at her eyes, because lips are a danger zone with this girl.

“Why are we stopping?” She asks, but her shoulders hunch in resignation, so Tony’s pretty sure she’s made the right assumption.

“Ah, you know, a little one on one, a heart to heart if you will.” He levels her with a look that he hopes comes across as non-threatening and _open_ because Tony, all jokes aside, wants to present himself as a safe space, so she can let whatever’s bothering her out, and maybe she’ll be happier? He really should’ve visited his guidance counsellor more often, damn.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine, Tony. Really.”

“ _Harriet_. We’re gonna be in this car for a while if this denial keeps up, and I don’t want to be stuck in a car that reeks of _bullshit_.”

Harry looks up at the roof of the car and sighs, which sort of reminds him of when he was little and knew no better than to ask Howard questions. Tony wants to rapidly shake his head at that thought, because Harry and Howard don’t even clash _slightly_ on the Venn Diagram.

“Really, it’s nothing. I just had a bad dream, is all.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No really, it’s silly. I don’t even know why I’m upset. I’ve had worse dreams.” And her fingers do that thing, when they absentmindedly reach up to softly circle that small scar on her forehead. Tony’s had time to look at it in the past few weeks. He can close his eyes and see the outline of that _lightning bolt_ , something that could never be an accidental carve. When he feels his palms sweat, he’s surprised to find his fists already in clenched positions. Go figure. His body’s better at revealing emotions then his mind will ever be.

“If you’re trying to comfort me with that statement, you’ve failed spectacularly.”

Harry scoffs, shaking her head in distaste. “You sound like Draco.”

“Who?”

“My former boyfriend. Total know it all.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Oh hell. _No_.

Tony’s alert now, holding himself up in a higher position while trying to look non-chalant. Even _he_ knows he’d not doing the best of jobs. “Former boyfriend.” He repeats, just to double check, or see if his ears are intact, or if she was just having a moment.

It’s Harry’s turn to straighten up, as if they’re both having a competition of whose spine will hold out longer. But Tony’s getting worked up and he’s always been competitive at heart, so Harry will lose at this for _sure_.

“Yes. Former boyfriend.” She says airily, all very blasé, a contrast to Tony’s internal ‘What the Fuck’ mindset he’s taken on.

“Interesting.”

“Isn’t it?”

“How long”-

“Two years, on and off.”

“Long time.”

“Exceedingly.”

“Keep in touch with Drew?”

“ _Draco_.”

“My bad.”

The air has become stale and heavy, and it’s getting increasingly stuffy in this car which is _annoying_ , seeing how the cars already heated. Fuck if he’s gonna break the eye contact and scroll up the window though. Not after she dropped the Ex-boyfriend bombshell on him like it was as simple as commenting on the weather. So _English_.

“Boyfriend, wow. Fair enough,” Tony nods, copying Harry’s current persona. Quick note: did he mention he’s competitive? “We’ve all been there. Don’t ask me to count my past interests, it’ll take _days_. On _end_.” Harry’s eyes flash and her lips thin, and just like that, her blasé attitude is gone.

Harry: I. Tony: I.

“Is that so?” Harry asks, the stare off between them becoming achingly long. Tony hates too much eye contact, he means, who likes it? But maybe he _is_ Alice in Wonderland, since he feels like he’s falling down a mass of emerald and can’t _stop_. It’s not as terrifying as the average sane person would think.

“Yep.” Tony declares, tone smug and victorious, because _ha_. “Maybe I should’ve kept a diary, kept tabs on conquests.” He also hopes Harry isn’t as good as detecting lies as she looks. When provoked, Harry can really nail the ‘Don’t Fuck with Me’ face, it’s pretty intimidating, he loves it, he’ll get a picture of it, maybe frame it. As long as _Drew_ isn’t next to her in any of them.

“I feel like that’s an overload of information for the day.” Harry voice is wry, edged with steel, so Tony knows she’s believed him, and that’s- actually, it doesn’t feel as good as he had hoped it would. “Excuse me, I’m going to get some air.” When she leaves the car, Tony lets out a breath he didn’t clock he’d been holding until now. He runs a hand over his face, knowing that if Rhodey was here, he’d get a smack on the head.

"I'll come with. Can't get enough of that oxygen."

\------------------------------

They walk in silence for a while, Tony not knowing how to fill the silence that he may have unintentionally caused. Well, she kind of started it, and he finished it with flying colours except Harry doesn’t see it that way so it’s all gone very tits up. And even though that expression _sounds_ good, it really, _really_ isn’t.

The walk isn’t long, like Tony said, things happen around him at a rapid pace. But it begins to stretch out longer and longer whenever Tony attempts to say something to lift the mood and just can’t. He’s getting the idea that Harry could give less of a shit; she’s been lost in her head like she was in the car. So, really, the only thing he accomplished by opening his mouth was setting them in a different scene. Despite the growing tension (probably only between he himself and don’t forget him), he’s still so charmed by Harry. She’s slightly talking to herself, mumbling little bits and pieces and occasionally biting her lip- but that’s a danger zone, he’ll back off right now- and it’s so freaking cute he’s battling between a tense mindset and one where he lets out a girlish giggle. He’s becoming such a girl lately, he’d be embarrassed but, oops. No can do.

Okay, he’s decided to do something about it.

“You know, maybe I’m _exaggerating_ a little about the line-up for one Tony Stark. I exaggerate a lot, it’s part of my charm, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it just a little bit? Just a smidge?”

“I’m not angry at you, Tony, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Harry, whose been walking in front of him on the pavement by the woods (strolling in her badass black leather boots, she’s badass, it’s not news) turns around to give him a knowing look, halting in her tracks. And, because she’s a trendsetter, he stops too. “It’s just my dream, you know? Have you ever dreamt something that felt so _real_?”

“You know I have.” Tony tells her, softer than he intended, but oh well. He takes a deep breath, preparing for the honesty that will never come naturally to him. “First night together, remember? I was a wreck, totally gone. I dreamt of the- the, uh, Crash. That I was in the car.”

Understanding gleams in Harry’s eyes, and Tony could sob, because there is no pity there, none. It’s freeing, to not be treated as a victim, Tony will try and do the same for her.

“That sounds horrid.” Harry says, so very sincere. She’s about to speak, but she very slightly tilts her head, listening to something that he can’t hear. Or can he? His hearing is legit, he’s not ashamed to say it. When he strains his ears, he gets it.

“Sounds like water streaming.”

“Damn, Hot-Pot. Good set of ears right there.”

Harry grins, as if all of today was one big lie, and she takes his hand. Which is also something he’d missed, because touching Harry (shut up, he doesn’t mean it like _that_ ) brings him a new level of glee, and he doesn’t like the word glee because it sounds corny and weird, but it’s the only word that can describe that feeling in his chest. So he guesses he’s corny and weird now, but he’ll get used to it. As _if_ he’ll stop holding Harry’s hand anytime soon.

When they get to the sound of streams, it turns out to be a lake.

It’s practically hidden, surrounded by trees entering the forest, and it’s so blue and practically sparkles, like it’s been blessed by Walt Disney. Tony’s not usually someone to outwardly enjoy nature- people have always assumed he’ll only be happy with a room surrounded by computers- but if he had no self-control over his actions, he’d have gasped. He’s totally becoming corny, it’s infuriating.

An idea springs to Tony’s mind then, making him grin at Harry’s future reaction. He throws his shirt over his head and shuffles out of his jeans. When he turns to Harry, her eyes have widened.

“What in Merlin’s beard are you doing?”

“Blasphemy, Potter. Merlin’s beard is _not_ to be fucked with. And I’m taking a dip.” He embellishes a shrug and heads in the water. Which is fucking _freezing_ , but after the heat of that _car_ , he’ll take what he can get.

“You’re mad.” Harry remarks. If Tony didn’t know any better, he’d say she appears scandalised. _Man_ he wants to giggle.

“Harry, look around you. This is what I call _privacy_. We haven’t gotten a lot of that lately, and generally speaking, people suck. So get your butt in here so we can have a grand old time without judgement. Unless you’re going _judge_ on me, don’t you dare, I’ll call Ron up, I don’t care, I’ll even find out his phone number.”

Harry’s grin widens, tongue slightly peeking out. Danger zone, he knows. “Ron responds by owl only. He doesn’t own a phone.”

“You see, a lesser person would judge you for that terrible joke, or your friends lack in socialising skills, but I’m not that guy. Quit stalling, ass in here now.”

Harry chuckles to herself, lifting her shirt above her head, and. Maybe Tony should think his ideas through?

He doesn’t know where to _look_.

Well, he does. But he won’t. He shouldn’t. Can he?

He means, it’s obvious Harry’s gonna have the best of bodies, because it’s Harry, and Harry’s at that stage of Tony’s life where she can do no wrong, and, to be honest, she doesn’t seem to be leaving that area any time soon. He knows she’s flawed, but everyone is, so that’s not a valid point. But she is near the perfect _zone_ , nearer than anyone he knows- where the hell is his mind going to? The point, yes, the actual point, is that Harry’s definitely a ten out of ten on the body scale and Tony wants to look but he doesn’t know if he can, so his eyes are looking at the white sky and his mind is a clusterfuck of hormones and confusion. It’s only when he sees Harry’s face staring at his chest, that he takes a sneaky peek. After that, for a few seconds his mind feels like the colour of the sky. Oh so very _blank_.

The temperature of the water manages to...calm him down, and focuses him on the present. Which is really, just really needed.

Harry walks into the water, hissing at the cold until she reaches up to Tony, who’s about half way in by now. And because Tony’s a little shit, the first thing he does when he greets her is to splash her in the face.

Harry squeals, Tony finally giggles.

“Oh it’s on, _Anthony_.”

“Do your worst, _Harriet_.”

Before he knows what’s happened, Harry’s tackled him into the water, and when he comes to the surface, she has an innocent expression on her face, looking at her surroundings with wide eyes.

“Tony! Why on earth are you having a _bath_? Silly boy.”

Harry: II. Tony: I. _Damn._

Tony grabs her and lifts her up over his head. She’s shrieking, flailing in the air, her laughter hysterical as she uselessly kicks. “No, Tony! Put me down! Bastard!”

“What was that? I can’t hear you, you’re too far up! Speak louder Harry, get some vocal chords!”

Harry: II. Tony: II.

Harry smiles something _devilish_ , and before he can throw her into the lake she places her hands on his shoulders, _hard_. Soon they’re both falling into the water in one big _splash_. He chokes on some of the liquid since he’s laughing so hard, rising up from the lake with energy and ready to get back at that _English rascal_. He stops however, when he gets up in his standing position and realises Harry is pressed tightly against him, his arms surrounding her like a _fucking reflex_.

And this is amazing and new and exciting, except it might be a bit too exciting, which will ruin the amazing part of this waterfall of emotions he’s experiencing. And so Tony stares hard at the shore in front of them, thinking of anything to stop the mood from…rising.

 _Phlegm. Old bitchy receptionists. Incorrect mathematical equations. Reporters. Rude Woman giving birth. The name Cuthbert_.

It’s working, and Tony doesn’t want to toot his own horn, but he’s pretty proud of himself.

Harry: II. Tony: III.

He can’t help the dopey smirk that lights up his face, and when he turns his head to look back at Harry, she’s watching him with a bizarre expression.

“What?”

“Why on earth do you look like that?”

“ _Huh_? Like what?”

“Like you’re drunk.” Tony knows his smile is still firmly in place, and it’s probably grown, since Harry hasn’t caught on to his previous dilemma and his therefore triumphant achievement. If there was a prize for keeping _certain events down_ , he’d have won with a standing ovation.

“Reasons, Potter, I’ll tell you later.” He replies breezily, his hands firmly on her back. He traces words on her back, which he’s been doing as of late, because there’s so much he wants to say to her, but his words _suck_ , and she doesn’t deserve sucky words. There’s a flare of goose bumps on her skin, and he has a feeling it’s not the icy lake that’s working its wonders. Not if she’s feeling the warmth that’s taking over his chest and expanding.

“I’ll tell you later too.” At what he knows is a baffled expression on his visage, Harry continues. “There’s _so much_ I want to tell you, Tony. And I will, I know I will, I can’t remember when I made that decision, but it’s made. I’ll tell you everything. But not yet. I’m- I’m not _ready_.”

She looks so guilty, her eyes locked below and her face muscles constricting. And before he realises it, his hands are cradling her face. He’s done this once, at the hospital, when she was afraid of seeing blood, but this feels more intimate. Because there’s no one here, because he feels as if they have all the time in the world, because the open expanse of nature actually feels better than a room filled with technology right now. He knows his hands are cold but when they press against Harry’s skin, they go warm, and the pink of Harry’s cheeks makes him think she’s having the same sensation.

“We have years, Harry. There’s no pressure. Hey, when we’re rocking the elderly home together you can tell me then. Provided you let me win at bingo, knit me woolly sweaters, you know, stuff wrinkled people do.”

Harry laughs, the sound light and carefree, and almost surprised. She looks at him in wonder, weird that. “You think we’ll know each other _that_ long?”

Tony grins, bringing his arms back to wrapping around her middle, his hold around her tight. He’s not possessive, okay, he’s just in a good place right now, why ruin it with his arms at his side? “Oh yeah. Didn’t I tell you? I’m clingy, there’s no fancy word for that. So you’re stuck with me, and before you ask, _yes_ we can celebrate, I’ll bake a cake and you can throw the confetti because I’m a _delight_.”

“Mm,” Harry hums, placing her arms around his shoulders, leaving shudders in her wake. “What if I want a restraining order.”

“Stark. Best lawyers ever, sorry, not sorry.”

A snap of a branch brings Harry and Tony out of- whatever they were in, he has no idea. His head whips to see what it was, because even though this is probably the least inhabited place on earth, there’s usually a paranoia at the back of his mind that vultures like the fucking _paparazzi_ will show up, or even worse, _reporters_. When he turns to Harry, she’s tense and searching speculatively the place where the noise came from.

“Probably just a rodent or something.” He decides to be the voice of reason, even though his fight or flight response wants to kick in about now. He’s weirded out, for some lack of explanation, this is a more negative sense than being with that creepy invasive family.

Harry’s unconvinced. She easily slips out of his arms (coincidentally he’s cold now, so very cold) and walks towards the land, her posture straighter than he’s ever seen and steps practically mechanical. She looks like a soldier in that moment, and that infuses a moment of panic for him that he never wants to have again. Harry approaches the land, her eyes never leaving the trees even when she quickly places her shirt back on. She also must have picked up a stick, because she holds it so tightly in her hand her knuckles are white even from where he’s standing. He thinks it’ll snap, but it doesn’t.

He comes out of his daze, walking quickly over to her, because if something is out there, as if he’ll just stand in the lake like it’s a sauna. But as soon as he’s on land, the crunch is heard again, and a rabbit pops out from behind a bush. Tony relaxes, but Harry very obviously doesn’t.

“Relax, Potter.” He tells her, placing a hand on her stiff arm. She deflates a little, but her usual laid-back character isn’t back in place. She turns to him, a wary look in her eyes, but nods determinedly.

“Let’s get out of here. This doesn’t feel right.” She grabs his hand, squeezing it tight (to reassure herself? Him? He doesn’t know) and leads him off, not before he picks up the rest of the shoes and clothes on the way. Thank the Lord for quick thinking.

\----------------------------

The car is still there when they get back, which he thought it would be, but Harry very much didn’t. She breathes a sigh of relief when she takes in the vehicle, then quickly hurries inside the car, not before he enters it himself. The car is freezing when they’re both inside.

“So, um. Anything you want to tell me now? I mean, I meant what I said, I’ll wait for answers. But. What just happened?”

Harry stares out the window, gripping the steering wheel. He wishes it was back to how things were on the lake, this morning even. He’d take quiet contemplation over vibrating suspense any day. She shakes her head, lips pursed. “Let’s just drive.” While she starts the car, all Tony can stare at are her hands, which are still shaking. And that hurts, knowing she’s internally suffocating, because not only can he empathise, but he can see the damage it’s doing to Harry. Harry who doesn’t need the crap she’s dealing with right now, whatever it is. His body is pretty much on auto pilot when without thinking, he takes her hands between his own, rubbing them up and down.

“It’s okay.” He says, his voice low and sincere. He doesn’t think it’s ever sounded like that before, but all he can hope for is that it works. Harry takes a shaky breath, looking at him with gratitude and awe. He doesn’t understand why, but he’ll get answers from her one day, so he keeps warming her hands, pleased when they begin to warm.

“Thank you.” She whispers after a while, hoarse and the most fragile he’s ever seen her. “I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“No apologies.”

“But”-

“ _Harriet_.”

She’s about to reply something witty, he just knows, when there’s the sound of a ‘pop’ outside, and the car slightly sinks. They look at each other in part confusion part caution, and Tony’s the first to get out of the car to inspect what the fuck just happened. When he goes around the car, he notices one of their tyres is flat. As if on purposefully _deflated_.

Before he can be mildly freaked, he notes a rabbit next to the car, teeth sharp and eyes flashing, if a rabbit can actually do that shit. He’s about to call Harry over, who’s now on the other side of the car being a detective herself.

And then something happens.

The rabbit convulses, morphing and changing and growing before Tony’s very eyes. It increases in height, it’s figures moulding to form into that of a- of a man. And then it is a man, a man dressed in black and Tony’s mind is whirling because that can’t be possible he was a fucking rabbit two seconds ago and now he’s human what’s going on has he taken something where’s Harry they need to get the fuck out of here what is happening-

“Tony!” He faintly hears Harry yelling his name in the background, but the man releases a stick from his hand, a stick similar to what Harry was holding onto earlier, and the man says something not the rabbit the man who was a rabbit what is happening Tony can’t move but he needs to he needs to get to Harry-

The few words the man utters must do something, because one second, he’s up, and the next thing he knows, the world around Tony is gone, and everything’s faded to black.

Like he said. For Tony, most things happen at a rapid pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WILL BRING THE NEXT CHAPTER QUICKLY SO YOU WON'T WAIT AND THERE WILL BE NO SUSPENSE BECAUSE IM A KIND SOUL SORT OF NOT REALLY OH NO


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BAMF

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK FAM the response you guys have given me has made me so happy like anyone who has left a review (your the real BAMFs) left kudos, bookmarked or hits (Someone also requested this to be a collection?!?! guys my SOUL) your all amazing and i always say i love you because it's too true
> 
> ANYWAYSSSS hope u like this chapter!! v difficult to write but i hope u like the outcome these fools are given

She doesn’t think she’ll ever admit this out loud, but Harry always feels incredibly selfish.

It’s explainable, she won’t bore anyone with the details that she wants to bury deep and never visit again, but there has always been a part of Harry that is twisted and so very _dark_. And Harry has ignored it for the most part, because why think of things so horrid? Especially when other horrendous thoughts constantly slip into her mind like an uncontrollable fog, slithering around and planting themselves to become ripe, vicious nightmares. 

Harry has never felt like a completely decent human being, and quite rightly. Because when Harry wakes up after being blasted unconscious, she _knows_ what she will witness, she _knows_ she’ll be pushed back into reality’s greedy claws, and for a few seconds she just _can’t_. She wants to embrace her selfishness and never open her eyes again, because she’s _weak_ , because hasn’t life taken enough from her? Can’t it ignore her dark scattered mind and leave her alone? Harry wants to scream, she wants to empty her lungs and spill all her pain out into the world.

When Harry does eventually open her eyes, she immediately regrets it.

She feels odd. It’s the impression of missing something, of feeling incomplete. Her mind is foggy, causing her to shake her head to become focused. Something is _off_ , and she straightens up, slightly more awake, when she realises that she cannot feel her magic. Instead of dwelling on this (if she dwells she will _scream_ , if she dwells she will panic to the extent of being useless when the back of her mind tells her she _can’t_ be useless, she needs to protect Tony- _Tony_ ) she looks at her surroundings with a desperate pace, whipping her head around the room.

It’s a small room, plain walls filling around them, no windows in sight. It’s design seems ominous, and a sense of foreboding strikes through Harry, making her feel trapped and incredibly claustrophobic. Anything of notice in the room is a singular vent high up on a wall, though Harry brushes over this as soon as she sees the boy next to her.

“Tony!” She yelps, her heart beating wildly, and once more her selfish instincts have ruined everything. He’s unconscious, a relief when she finds air coming from his parted lips. He looks unharmed and yet, Harry knows that when it comes to magic, nothing is ever really as it seems. She gently nudges him, hating herself for forcing him back into reality, something she didn’t want to do to herself either. But here they are, and she takes one of her hands to smooth over his forehead. Whether it’s to apologise or to savour any brief moment with him, she’s not completely aware.

He mumbles something incoherent- at this her gentle shakes become faster, more rigorous. His face twitches, nose flaring and his pupils moving behind his eyelids. At first, they peek dimly around them, and suddenly he’s wide awake, sitting up so fast Harry is surprised he doesn’t have whiplash.

“Harry,” he says, alert and more serious than she’s ever seen him. He searches her face, then scoots over to where she’s sitting, grasping her elbows in his hands. “Are you okay? You hurt?” He’s irritated when it takes more than a second for her to reply, her mind still processing the world around her. “Harry, come on. Don’t do a disappearing act on me now, not an ideal time. Are you _hurt_?”

“No,” Harry shakes her head firmly. “You?” He shakes his head too, and they sit there in silence, Harry trying to grasp her head around the vicious reality that’s come to play.

“I think we’ve been drugged.” Tony says aloud, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and inspects his arms, practically speaking to himself. “Probably not injected then, but gases can be used. Or maybe darts? Not sure what drug it is either, I mean, it could be acid cause of the hallucinations, but acid always has more than one vision.”

“What are you talking about?” She asks distantly.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” He taps his neck, seeming to count the speed of his heartbeat before appearing confused.

“I- the car broke down, there was a flash- then nothing.” The cloud immersed in her brain has almost completely faded, and now she can be fully concentrated, useful and protective over the boy at her side. Memories are coming back to her now; the car breaking down, inspecting it, hearing a distant shout, running to action with fear and underlying rage, a bright light and finally having the sensation of falling, and seeing nothing but a void.

She’s completely alert now. She knows what’s happened.

She has never been more selfish.

“We were most definitely drugged. Last thing I saw was a rabbit become a middle-aged guy. Most likely a gas that induces delusions.” Tony isn’t as scared as she’d expect him to be, and a rush of pride runs through her, though it’s overshadowed by the deep festering pit of guilt in her stomach.

“A rabbit becoming a man?” A _rabbit_. Becoming. A _man_.

 _Shit_.

Tony bites his lip, rubbing his hand over his face, thrumming with anticipation.

Nothing is making sense and yet everything is. Harry practically jumps at the continuing aspect of her feeling powerless, and imitates Tony’s previous actions, searching her body for any signs of tampering. It’s when she sees a clasped bracelet wrapped around her wrist, one she’s never seen before in her life, does she understand, that they may be, almost certainly quite fucked.

“I didn’t have this bracelet before.” She tells him, peering down at the vicious thing. It’s the colour of steel, a heavy garment that she wouldn’t have even noticed had she not been looking for it. Which is…well, peculiar, seeing how it is quite visible.

Tony holds her wrists gently in his hands, inspecting it with curiosity. “That’s fucking weird.” Is all he can say. When Harry first met him, she knew he was not the best at comfort, but this event has continued to solidify that fact. “Reckon it’s a tracker or something?”

“A _tracker_?”

He shrugs defensively. “I don’t know. I’m not really getting any of this.” Tony attempts to take it off, to slide it on her wrist. And Harry emits a sharp intake of pain, when the bracelet wraps itself even tighter around her, almost cutting off her circulation.

Tony places his fist under his chin at that, and for all intents and purposes he looks blasé. Harry knows much better than to think this to be true. The hand that is not resting under Tony’s face is shaking. Automatically, Harry takes his hand and warms them, like what Tony did for her, because it made her feel so _much better._ What’s to stop him from feeling similarly now? Apart from the fucking _kidnapping_ , of course.

“That’s not our biggest issue at the moment.” _But it is, isn’t it_? She can’t even grant him the protection of using her _fucking magi_ -

“I think we were taken because of me.”

Harry’s focus is immediate and infinite when Tony speaks. His eyes are cast downward and his posture is hunched, looking for all intents and purposes, as if he’s defeated.

Harry shakes her head instantly. “That’s ridiculous Tony,”-

“This isn’t my first kidnapping situation,” Tony begins sharply, looking at anything but her. “It’s always like this: the bait, the room, the waiting. Howard’s son, you know? They want money, they’ll let us go once they have it.” He finally levels her with a piercing sweep, his expression heavy. “I- it’ll all be over soon. And not in the ‘they’ll kill us once we’re no longer valuable’- shit, no, sorry I even sai- it’s gonna be _fine_.”

Harry shakes her head once more, so profoundly guilty she’s surprised Tony can’t feel her emotions projected. “Tony, this isn’t your doing. This is my fault. I’m just- I’m so sorry.” Harry confesses, and though the room is small she still imagines her admission to echo across the room and shatter the walls surrounding her.

“Hey- hey _no_ ,” Tony leans into her space and sweeps his thumbs across a couple of stray tears that have managed to escape. “ _None_ of this is your fault, okay? This is all on _me_. I should’ve- I should never have put you in danger like this. And I’m _sorry_.” He sounds so anguished and sincere that more hot, heavy and guilty flecks of water trail down her face. This only causes him to look worse, and so the cycle continues.

“It’ll be fine.” He promises urgently, determination etched into his handsome features. “Uncle Obie’s gonna bail us out. I’ve dealt with this before, always the same outcome. All they want is money, we just have to wait it out. _Jesus_ , I’m so _sorry_.”

“No.” Harry shakes her head, her voice rising, pushing herself to say what she is about to. She knows Tony’s taken aback by this, but she barrels ahead, like ripping plaster off a wound that will never heal. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

Tony’s wary now, she notices. He continues to wipe the remnants of tears off her pale cheeks, but the pace is now slow. He waits for her to speak, studying, confusion mixed with caution. What he says next is said with trepidation.

“That’s _ridiculous_. How is this your fault, Harry?”

When she next speaks, her speech is raised loud in order to hear herself over the thumping of her heart.

“The kidnapper wasn’t after you. He came for me.” Taking in a deep breath, unsurprised when it is static, she forcibly, finally, shoves her confession from her throat.

“I’m a witch.”

Tony gives her an unimpressed gaze. “Funny. What, you trying to find your sense of humour in here?”

“No.” Harry presses, “I’m a witch Tony. A proper witch.”

Tony’s eyes flash in consideration. “Does that stand for something?” He hastily removes his hands from her cheeks, and heavily gulps. “Are you…are you working for someone? Some organisation? I can _help_ you Harry, let me help you.”

“You don’t-!” Harry snaps, willing him to get it, willing herself to spit it out in one swift motion. “I’m a _witch_. Potion brewing, broom flying, wand casting bloody _witch_. The bracelet is preventing my magic from working so I can’t prove it, but it’s true, Tony. I’m a witch.”

A beat.

“One last chance to tell me you’re kidding.” It sounds like a prayer.

“I’m not.”

It’s silent. Harry looks at the ceiling, noticing a vent in place and scratches imbedded into the walls, but she feels as if she’s noticing nothing at all. Her mind is a blur and her heart slowly travels to meet her stomach, spooling around in frantic nerves. When she summons the courage to look at Tony, he’s looking at her intently, his expression unreadable.

“What you saw earlier- that wasn’t a drug, the animal becoming that man, it was all real. He must be a dark wizard, a Death Eater.” She shivers at the thought. “He took us because of me, because of recent events that happened in my world. In the magical world.” She’s not making sense, things are tumbling out of her mouth in a heated rush, but she can’t _stop_ , can’t organise her thought process coherently, she’s forgotten how. It’s not like Tony’s helping the situation. He still hasn’t spoken.

“Tony,” she reaches out to him without thinking why, and she doesn’t know what but something within her threatens to snap when she sees him scoot backwards quickly. He watches her with betrayal and something akin to agony. It gives her the sensation of feeling as if she’s lost something vital.

“Harry _stop_.” The words come out strained, as if forced. His breaths begin to heave, flashes of infinite sadness crossing though his eyes. “Stop it, you’re- _stop_.”

Harry can only nod, too numb to ask why. It’s not like she doesn’t know why. The sentence ‘you’re ruining everything’ comes to mind, and she wonders if this is what is currently unspoken between them. He doesn’t believe her, doesn’t trust her. It hurts, it hurts so much, more than Harry wants to put into words. Not only because the ache in her chest feels overwhelming, but if Harry managed to say why she’s wounded out loud, it makes this all real. She should’ve snapped out of her reverie yesterday and soaked up all of Tony, because now, now with his distrust and him certainly thinking her certifiably insane, she knows she’s likely to having lost him forever. And it’s an unbearable thought, but she is powerless to stop the down-spiral of all the positive memories of this month, watching everything they’ve built together collapse with three words.

“You don’t believe me.” Rationally, she understands that this information is a lot to swallow. Stress can make her reckless, however. Her pit of despair begins to grow.

“Tony shakes his head speedily, placing the back of his hand over his mouth and taking lungsful of breath. His breathing has begun to slow down to his usual rhythm, but he appears pale, so Harry knows he’s not fine at all.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” Harry asks, wanting to leave this conversation altogether. Wanting to leave this memory behind forever.

Tony takes his hand from his lips harshly, bringing his nails to rake over his head of hair. “I don’t- how could you do this? How could you let me- and now you think”- So many emotions cross over his face, too many for Harry to decipher. She does note the anger though, she does note the simmering mourning. For what, she isn’t sure.

“I can’t prove it to you now,” she whispers, “but that’s not what’s important. I swear to Merlin I will protect you”-

“From the dark wizard.” Tony snaps, using his heels to lift himself up from the ground. When he does, his legs appear shaky. Nonetheless, he begins to pace. “Cursing about Merlin makes a lot of sense now. You pray to him or something? When you’re not wearing pointy hats and adopting black cats. Christ, how could you not tell me this is what you thought? How could you travel with me for over a month without voicing that belief? How could you make me care”- his voice breaks, and he takes a deep inhalation, pulling himself together. “The guy who took us _gave us_ something. He’s here for _me_ , and that’s the only logical explanation.”

Harry stands up herself, not letting him look anywhere else but her eyes. “After everything we’ve been through, and you don’t believe me?”

Tony looks at her like he’s seeing her for the first time. “You’re telling me some _crap_ about being a _witch_! How the _fuck_ do you expect me to believe that? Especially since you can’t even prove it- makes sense; oh yeah, get this Harry, _I_ can turn into a bat, but I can’t _right now_ , since I’m wearing underwear!”

Harry practically spits on his face. “Explain why I have a bracelet on that I wasn’t wearing before! Explain how a rabbit became a _fully-grown man_! Are you so arrogant that you won’t acknowledge _any_ of this?”

“I can acknowledge it, I’m acknowledging it right now. With _rational explanations_! You expect me to believe you’re a witch. _News flash_ , there’s no such thing! Magic isn’t real, it’s a concept created years ago by people who didn’t understand why their crops and neighbours were dying- so what did they do? Invented a warped fantasy and burnt innocent people alive! Magic is delusional, and in the day and age of science, you expect me to nod my head and hop on the communal broomstick?”

Harry clenches her jaw, glad her previous tears are gone. The fight within her has left though, replaced by guilt. She should have told him a long time ago, she is so fundamentally selfish that she feels out of place in Tony’s light (albeit, very irritating light that she currently wants to kick in the shin). Really, it’s her fault he’s here, no matter what he thinks, so she herself takes a cool calm and collected aura, because she’s done, she’s done being angry, and she’ll be damned if she loses this boy to the truth. She walks towards where he is, still walking even when he takes a step back. When she reaches to him, she places her hands on his shoulders, holding him still and peering at him with what she knows is overwhelming intensity.

“Regardless of what you say, this is my fault.” At his head beginning to shake, she places a finger on his lips. “But I will get us out of this. I just need you to trust me Tony. Please?”

He looks so vulnerable at this moment, as if he wants Harry to become a wreck, to sob into his chest and hold him with in despair. Before he can say anything, the sound of a spray is heard from above their heads, causing both Harry and Tony to look up to the vent on their left. Smoke rises from it, filling the room, and before Harry can do anything Tony immediately moves his hand to cover her mouth and nose, as if it will help. It doesn’t, soon Harry feels a drowsiness cloud into her mind. Her eyelids feel heavy and they slowly begin to drift shut despite her half-hearted attempts to keep them open. She drops to her knees, all but collapsing onto the floor, yet before her head drops to the ground she feels a hand cradle her skull, blocking any painful impact. When she looks up she sees Tony closing his eyes, uselessly engulfing himself around her in a futile attempt at protection.

After that, there is nothing.

\-------------------------

The next time she wakes, Harry is tied to a chair.

She snaps her head at once as soon as consciousness returns to her, frantically searching the room once more for the one person she actually cares about in this situation.

“Tony,” she hisses, her eyes roaming as much as she is able to. Harry sighs in relief when she hears a groan right behind her, and realises belatedly that her blind fear has made her ignorant of her surroundings, because Tony’s back is pressed against hers and both their wrists are joined together in the tangling of one thick rope, as are both of their legs. This surprises Harry, because if they have indeed been taken by a magic user, why on earth is he using muggle tools?

Nevertheless, Harry focuses on her main concern.

“Tony? Are you awake?” A rush of déjà vu sweeps over her.

There is a rush of words Harry cannot identify, and she feels a bobbing of a head, from the way her chair slightly jumps up and down.

“I-yeah.” Tony finally gets out, allowing her heart to calm down. “You?”

“It was _me_ that just asked that question.”

“No- you _alright_?”

Harry emits a soft, bitter sigh. “None of this is all right.”

There is only silence at that, and yet it’s said more than actual words can.

“I’m sorry, Tony.” She says again, painfully aware that no matter how many times she says it, it won’t change anything.

“Stop saying that.” Tony snaps back, though there’s a lack of rage within his tone. “None of this will ever be your fault, okay? Damn Potter, you’ve got a guilt complex.”

“What if you believed that I _am_ a witch?” Harry pushes, unrelenting. “Would you blame me then? Seeing as it would be all my fault.”

“Right, yeah, then it would be your fault.”

Harry’s heart falls down, down, down-

“Because you obviously put a gun to my head when we met. You said, ‘You’re coming with me or I’ll _shoot you_ ’, and then tied me up and put me in the hood of your car. And then you paid someone to tie us up and leave us _both_ here to wait for some psycho to do some evil bidding on us. _Hypothetically speaking_ , if you _are_ a witch, the only thing that would change on the blame spectrum is that my anger that we drove a car with the heat having a _fucking party_ , rather than us chilling on a broomstick.”

Harry has the impression of something reigniting within her, something similar to that of hope, and so much affection pulsating through her that she’s sure it’s unnatural. Her lips jerk up.

“You’re _really_ banging on about that broomstick.”

“Oh, _I’m_ sorry, what other reason would there be to rock the Witch title?”

“How about we get out of here and I show you?” Behind her, the laugh she hears is short but genuine. Like it’s a normal day for them, like they haven’t been taken against their will, awaiting the worst.

“Ah, what the hell. I’ll hold you to that, I guess. Still don’t believe you, but…you don’t strike me as”-

“ _Crazy_?”

“I was about to say delusional, but _whatever_ , put words in my mouth.”

Before she can reply, there is a jiggling behind the door in front of Harry. She braces herself, holding her head high and proud, because she will not be a _victim_. She hasn’t been a victim in _years_ , and talking to Tony, feeling the warmth she’s come to always feel in his presence, has given her more strength and balance than a shot of adrenaline ever could. The door opens.

The man who walks in is…typical, Harry can’t help but think.

He’s dressed head to toe in black, a sophisticated suit that fits him relatively well, though it’s obvious that what he’s wearing was never tailored for him specifically. He is pale, paler than even Harry, which is frightfully sickening. He has a dark beard and deep brown eyes that flash with glee when him and Harry cross gazes, his lips curling in satisfaction.

And it’s all very… _typical_

There is no other word for it.

“It’s good to finally meet you, Miss Potter.” His voice is unexpectedly light, and though Tony can’t see him from where’s the man’s standing, he emits a soft sound of surprise. His finger manages to stroke Harry’s, in support or apology she’s not completely sure. “I hope you enjoyed my Animagus? I could tell you were wary of me when you saw me near that lake, good. Intelligent girl.”

“Who are you?” Harry cuts to the chase. The stranger has the audacity to look affronted, giving Harry the urge to roll her eyes twice over. Honestly, what is _wrong_ with some people?

“I suppose it makes sense you wouldn’t recognise me.” He justifies, coming nearer into her personal space, and Harry _hates_ people broaching into her area. Only few have made the cut for her to accept it, want it. “Wars can scramble the human mind, traumatise the soul.”

Behind her, Tony tenses, tilting his head as if it will give him better audio. Harry herself has frozen at the mention of something she would prefer to not speak or think about again.

“Who are you?” She repeats, pressing.

The Man smiles, Harry briefly notes yellow teeth, “My name is Patrick.”

There’s silence in the small room, Patrick clearly waiting for a reaction. He’s probably not expecting Harry to burst into laughter.

“Have I done something to amuse you, Miss Potter?”

Harry hunches over, wanting to grip her sides that are getting stitches. All the noise in the room is her almost silent cackling, tears leaking at the corner of her eyes. “Out of- all the names you could have.” She tries to spurt out, her cheeks aching. “Bloody hell, you’re trying to look terrifying- and your name is”- She shuts her eyes and attempts to reign in her hysteria.

“Read the room, Harry.” Tony hisses behind her, sounding careful. And Harry wishes she hadn’t laughed, hadn’t made Tony say something, because now Patrick ( _Patrick_ ) waltzes round to the side where both of them can see him.

“You haven’t introduced me to your friend.” Patrick states, eyeing Tony with a glint in his eye that Harry can’t decipher.

“He’s not important.” Harry says quickly, all traces of laughter gone. The air has become stale, and the room is so small each individual’s breathing is heard. Tony’s is levelled, calm, and all Harry can do is try to imitate that. Patrick’s is rapid, like a dog after a run.

“He must be, for you to abandon your community and run off with him.” At Harry’s raised eyebrows he continues, encouraged. “Ah, yes, word has spread. Harriet Potter, the Girl who Lived, flees the country. Reports have last seen her with an adolescent boy.” His lips are pointed in victory. “

“ _Adolescent boy_? That’s all the dirt about me in the papers? _Adolescent_?” Harry knows what he’s doing, trying to take the heat off her, and in that moment, she wants to kick him, tell him to just stop. Pity their legs are tied by the wrapping of rope.

“You just said one name? No last name.” Harry states, ignoring the glare Tony’s sending her way. “Why is that?”

“Don’t be rude, Harry. All diva’s only have one name. Madonna, Cher… _Mozart_?”

“My first name is my professional name,” Patrick says, not giving Tony the time of day. Like Tony’s some pesky insect just waiting to be squashed; Harry tries to hide her shudder.

“Professional?” Something in Harry’s mind _clicks_. “You’re a bounty hunter.”

Patrick offers a grin, though a flash of anger is fleeting in his gaze. “Clever girl.”

“How much is she worth?” Comes Tony’s voice. “I’ll pay double for our freedom. Triple. Give me a price, Morticia Adams.”

“Tell your muggle to be quiet. Or I will make him quiet _for you_.” It’s only now, that Harry sees the wand gripped in his white knuckles, a dampener on the presence in the room. Because it’s _her_ wand he’s holding.

_Bastard._

Patrick seems to note where her eyes have strayed to, taking the wand and bringing it to his nose, peering at it reverently. “It is _this wand_ , this thing of _beauty_ , that vanquished the Dark Lord once and for all.”

Harry thinks of another wand, a wand placed in a box in 12 Grimmauld Place, hidden and forcefully forgotten. “For the most part, yeah.”

Patrick takes the wand and brings it even further to his nostrils, sniffing it deeply, closing in eyes in what looks like bliss.

“Well that’s not normal,” Tony observes.

The Creep realises himself, opening his eyes with a snap and rearranging his posture to appear threatening. It doesn’t work, and it’s actually rather painful to watch.

“You were worth a lot of money,” Patrick continues as if his little _episode_ never happened, walking back to just Harry’s direction. He brushes a stray hair from her face with his puffy, clammy hands, lingering on where she knows her scar is. “And I was the one lucky enough to _find you_. _Me_. My first job. I didn’t do it for the money, you know?” He circles her scar lazily. “I’m somewhat…a fan. I will treasure these moments forever.”

He takes a step back, taking her wand and pointing it at her, longing etched along the lines of his forehead. He must think this poetic, using her own wand against her. He’s also taking his time, looking at her in what she assumes is him attempting to photograph the memory. Harry meanwhile is starting to feel an increasing trace of panic, her heart thumping getting wild and sporadic. Her mind is blank at what to do, she has the ambience of reliving the war, having wands at the ready to strike, to injure, to kill.

An image of Hermione crosses through her mind.

“Anything left to say?” Patrick says, a smug grin on his face, once full of such conceited arrogance Harry wishes she had enough saliva to spit on him. She’s afraid though, not for herself but for the boy behind her, who’s fiddling with her wrists for some obscure reason. Before Harry can make a witty retort to the barmy creep in front of her, Tony speaks, his voice matter of fact and oh so very fearless.

“Confession time then. Harry: I’ve had to control like…over eleven erections in the past month around you. It’s been really, _really_ difficult.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say to that. And by the looks of it, neither does Patrick. Tony, apparently oblivious to the aura of bemusement around him, merrily ploughs on.

“I check you out pretty much every day. Tried to stop myself but I totally see you doing it to me, so I guess we’re both perverts. You have the nicest ass I’ve ever come across. If there’s a heaven, your ass is on all of the propaganda posters.”

Patrick’s smug grin has vanished, his mouth dropping in definite confusion. He’s probably baffled Tony lacks the fear Patrick’s been planning for months. As for Harry, she herself is shocked by this utter imbecile. Why in Merlin’s name did he say that? He’s not fooling Harry he’s obviously petrified, she felt his hands shake against hers-

Harry almost gasps when she notes the subtle tug of the ropes on her wrists. Tony’s distracting him, giving them time to free themselves, she realises with a rush of admiration and affection, taking her fingers and stretching them to reach the knot of the rope.

Not that she hasn’t simply forgotten what he’s just said.

“What do you expect me to do with that information, Tony?”

“I dunno, write a book, sell movie rights. Open a support group?”

“There will be no future for that to be enabled.” Patrick spits out, his posture attempting to be threatening but coming across to Harry as a sulk. “I will kill you, Harriet Potter, and then I will kill you.” He turns to look at Tony, his eyes sadistic, thrilled at the attention given his way. Harry feels some of the rope begin to give way, the knot beginning to loosen. “How about I kill the muggle while you watch?” He asks Harry, his tongue poking out his mouth. “Then, you’ll be _begging_ me to kill you.”

“The only thing I’ll be begging for,” Harry begins, reigning in her anger at the mere thought of him placing his vile hands on her man, “is for you to use toothpaste. I’m confused as to why you thought eating garlic was appropriate before coming anywhere _near_ my vicinity?”

“Nice one Harry!”

“Enough!” Patrick yells, his face now so close to hers it’s sickening. And although Harry wasn’t serious, she now notices that his breath is in fact, rancid. “You think this’ll bide you time? You think you can outsmart me?” He lets out a forced rigid chuckle, taking his fingers and grasping her chin. The rope is increasingly weakening, so Harry is not particularly worried. “Think again.”

The rope falls to the floor. Time stops at a halt.

Harry stares at Patrick. Patrick stares at Harry, and when his eyes flicker to the rope on the floor, Harry collides her forehead with his. He sinks to the floor rather quickly in pain, holding the wand to his chest as if it’s one of this organs. There is no time to dwell, however; Harry loosens the rope wrapped round her legs, rising to her feet. Blindly, Harry reaches out to take Tony's hand, who is peering at her with something akin to wonder. “Let’s get out of here,” she says firmly, only just managing to slam the door shut before Patrick’s lunge at them is successful.

\-----------------------------

The halls are narrow and dark, and without her wand to show her the light Harry feels unarmed and restless. Trepidation has begun to seep into her skin and is currently settling within her bones. She has Tony’s hand forcefully in hers, and even if Tony were to try to pull away, Harry wouldn’t let him.

“This is a fucking maze,” Tony mutters, looking around him at an increasing speed. He sees a nail on the ground just in front of them and swiftly picks it up. Harry furrows her brows, staring at him to explain, but there’s no time. They speedily run down the corridor, seeing a door. Harry sighs in upcoming relief, but it plummets when she begins to open the door. And it won’t budge _open_.

“Damn it,” she stutters out, beginning to frantically shake the unrelenting door, wishing she could feel her magic that has always been a constant. Tony takes his hand from hers and grasps her shoulders to the side, taking the nail he had previously found.

“Can you pick a lock?”

“Used to break into Howard’s office all the time,” he says offhandedly, and puts the nail in the keyhole, moving it around and finding the right angle. Harry is on look out, attempting to see what’s behind them in the darkened hallway.

She hears the sound of footsteps approaching.

Harry turns to Tony, who in turn gives her a sharp silent nod, holding his finger to his lips. He gestures to the door and gives a thumbs up, slowly and without noise opening it. They move out, and Harry wants to scream at the top of her lungs when she sees that the door only leads to stairs, going _up_.

Harry grimaces, but embraces her determination, taking Tony’s hand back in hers and running up the flight of stairs.

“Keep going,” Tony whispers, adrenaline seeping in his tone. “There must be an exit door or something.”

A door clangs open from downstairs, footsteps becoming more audible. All Harry can do is squeeze Tony’s hand, her palms sweaty, and keep running upwards, faster than before, sprinting for dear life.

The stairs lead to only one door, and when Harry and Tony barge it open together, they find that it has led to the top of the building. The view is high and the fresh air crashes into Harry, a wave of biting cold sweeping over her, chills ingrained in her brain. There is nothing on the roof, nothing to hold against the door, nothing at all. When she looks over the edge, there is no possible way to climb down, no other rooves to jump to. She feels so disassociated, so removed from reality that she wants to shut all her emotions in a bottle and never let them come out. Still, when she sees the open expanse, she runs back to the door, keeping it shut as tight as she can with her body, however pointless it may be at least it’s something, anything. Tony follows suit, giving her a brave grin. When he next speaks, there is something so _final_ in his speech.

“This has been the weirdest day of my life. And I’ve done some _shit_ in my time.”

Harry stares at him in what she knows is awe, and yet she cannot stop it. “How do you do that? How are you so _brave_?”

Tony looks at her like she’s ridiculous; she’d be self-conscious if her nerves weren’t already flying around. “From what I’ve heard today, from what I’ve _seen_ , I know you’re the brave one. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.” The sound of running is heard from behind the door, and Harry braces herself for what is about to occur, for what her selfishness has caused.

“Whatever happens,” Tony tells her, no trace of a grin in sight. “I don’t regret this. _Any_ of it. Yeah? You’re- you’re _alright_.”

She chokes on a laugh that almost becomes a sob. “You’re alright too. I wish I told you that every day.”

Tony’s smile is soft and knowing. “I guess we’re both idiots.”

Nothing else is said. Tony takes Harry’s hand, their weight pressing on the door while Tony brings her hand to his lips, lingering. Harry moves her forehead to meet his own, noses brushing, and Harry can pretend for a few seconds that it’s just them in this world, this unfair cruel world that takes and takes. She breathes everything that is Tony, wishing for more time.

And then the footsteps becoming increasingly clearer, the clanging of shoes hitting the metallic staircase. A few words and the door _clashes_ open, sending Harry and Tony flying through the air. She lands on something so concrete and hard a tangled scream leaves her throat, pain coursing through her body. She brings a hand (an empty hand, where is _Tony_?) to her side and all that she can think when she sees the blood is, ‘Oh, makes sense.’

Once more, there is nothing.

\----------------------------

When Harry next opens her eyes, it is because something is tapping her cheeks insistently. She says something that even she can’t make sense of, and the tapping becomes harsher, forming into wicked slaps. Harry knows she’ll be face to face with Patrick, so it becomes very difficult to actively want to open her eyes and see the creep in human form. But when she thinks of Tony, Tony whose hand is no longer linked to hers, her eyes snap wide open like clockwork.

“That’s better.” Patrick beams, simmering in what she understands to be rage. He’s the equivalent of a child holding a temper tantrum, and it makes Harry’s blood _boil_. “Tried to get away, didn’t you? Disrespectful,” he tuts, picking her up and tightening his hold over her when she sways.

“Where’s Tony?” She tries to bring her head around the scene of the roof, but before her face can even slightly swivel, Patrick lets her go to allow her to feel the sharp impact of the slap, her cheek whipped and bruised. Harry tastes blood.

“The muggle is next. You’re now.”

Harry is unrelenting. “Where _is_ he?” Anger is prominent now, seeping into her veins as if injecting itself into her bloodstream. She has had enough, she wants this to be over, she wants to see _Tony_ , and he’s not letting that _happen_.

“You do not get to ask me questions!” Patrick screeches, dots of spit littering his chin and Harry’s visage. “ _I_ am in charge here! _I_ am the one who caught you!”

“ _Where is he_?”

Another slap, though this time, Harry cannot feel a thing. “I said _enough_!”

Adrenaline begins to course, potent and _greedy_. Patrick’s not the only one who has had enough.

“You’re _pathetic_ ”, Harry seethes, an idea forming in her mind. “For someone who tries to act like they have everything under control you really don’t. Tying us up with rope was the first clue: you are one of the weakest wizards I’ve ever encountered; I doubt you were even hired to find me. You probably saw a bounty on my head and decided to prove yourself, seeing as no one in their right mind would hire someone with a _rabbit Animagus_ ”-

Patrick lets go of her to deliver a punch to her jaw as Harry knew he would, as she ducks under him and kicks him in the groin. He makes a noise of pain, hunching forward; Harry uses this moment to punch him in the jaw, taking her wand back from his loose hand and runs across the roof, searching intently. And there he is! She sees Tony’s figure on the ground, eyes closed but chest rising up and down and he’s _alive_. Harry almost approaches him when Patrick yells.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Harry has barely moved to the side before the spell hits right next to her. Harry’s an idiot, she should have realised he had another wand, she should have made sure he was knocked out, and know Tony will d- will get _hurt_ because she was selfish, because she had to make sure he was alright. The irony is not lost on her.

Harry gets to Tony, throwing herself over him like some protective shield. He looks relatively uninjured, apart from a nasty gash on his forehead. She manages to pull herself together and drag his heavy, limp form. She won’t be able to hold this up.

So, she holds onto her wand and focuses. Perhaps the bracelet is weak like Patrick, perhaps she can override anything done to her. It is a long shot, but the door is far away and Patrick is running to her from the corner of her eye, wand in hand, and she _has_ to do this, she has to.

Closing her eyes, Harry tries to conjure emotions that will offer her power. She thinks of the hatred she felt earlier towards Patrick, the complete and utter loathing she has towards the man who threatened Tony.

Tony.

Tony’s laugh. Tony telling a joke, his eyes brightening and beam blinding. Tony fixing the car, his gaze so concentrated and endearing. Tony looking at her with a soft smile painted on his lips, expression tender.

There is a rush of what can only be power over her, and Harry looks down to her wrist, seeing the bracelet having fallen to the ground.

“Petrificus”-

“Expelliarmus!” Patrick’s wand flies from his hand. His face has further paled, revealing a sickening colour on his shocked features.

“That’s not possible.” He stutters.

Harry grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT I AM NERVOUS POSTING THIS V V NERVOUS


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harry and tony adopt an adorable child called patrick and they live happily ever after its like annie except tonys not bald and patricks not ginger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY MY BABIES
> 
> I wrote last chapter leaving it being all 'ah great that brings this arc to a conclusion' n it was only after reading the reviews did i realise i left it in a cliffhanger vibe. IM SORRY LOVELIES lmao
> 
> that beiiing saiiiidddd, the response to the last chapter made me BEAM, all you amazing ppl (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE EMBRACE THE LOVE PLEASE) only went and made my day, YOU FUCKING STARS i dont deserve all of u but who doesss

Consciousness returns to Tony with all the finesse of an ice skater, being thrown across the rink, twice. It's an instinctive wakening though, like his arteries have been clogged with electricity that's jolting and spreading through his body _way_ too fucking fast. His eyes shoot up, his posture immediately straightening and his forehead moves rapidly only to bang against someone else's.

"Fuck!"

"Bloody hell!"

Tony knows that voice, he also should've known that forehead (he'd literally just touched it prior to whatever just happened to him, feeling her, wanting _more_ , wanting to borrow time even just to rest his head to _hers_ ) and his attention is pulled to Harry, whose rubbing her forehead while searching his face- as if he's grown a massive _zit_.

Or just woke up from being...blasted out a door?

Yeah, a zit is less likely, considering the circumstances.

"You okay?" He beats her to the punchline, his eyes roving over her. She seems okay, no blood on her face so most likely no head injury (unless it's an internal wound but crossing that bridge when coming to it and all that), but he stops the FBI inspection when he sees an imprint of a _hand_. 

On her _face_. 

Also noting the cut. On her _lip_.

He puts two and two together.

"Asking me if _I'm_ okay? _Tony_ , eyes on _me_ , how many fingers am I holding?"

Tony gets up, feeling once again like he's been electrocuted and making Harry slightly jump in most likely alarm. He's decided to go on a little hunt and he doesn't really know what he's thinking of achieving by finding this fucking _psychopath_ , but no one puts a hand on Harry let alone an _imprint_ -

Harry's gotten up, holding Tony as he sways. And, _oh_. Maybe he hit his head a little harder than he thought. Except he can't have hit it too badly, he feels weirdly _fine_. 

"Tony, hey, _hey_ , _stop_." She presses, holding his elbows in her dainty hands. He feels a poke in his arm and looks down to see a stick jabbing him. A _wand_ , Patrick had said.

Right, yes. Everything's coming back to him now.

"How are you feeling? I managed to fix your head, I think you may have had a concussion. But, well, I've never been the best at healing. How many fingers am I holding?"

Tony indulges her, staring at her two fingers. "Seventeen."

Harry glares. " _Tony_."

"Alright, fine, two. What do you mean _healing_?"

A groan catches his attention, and his gaze flies to a crumpled figure who is clutching his chest. Something feral growls within Tony and he makes to move forward. 

"Tony," Harry warns, bringing her hand to meet her chest. "It's alright. He can't hurt us anymore."

"How about I double check?" He tries to get passed her, but Harry's hold becomes more firm. "Harry."

"Tony. Don't do something you'll regret."

Tony stares at her cheek. "I really won't."

"We are taking him to the authorities. I won't have you in trouble, alright?"

"He _hit you_ , Harry. He kidnapped us and he _hit_ _you_. You can't expect me to just"-

"For now." She interrupts, eyes beseeching. “The bracelet," she holds up her bare wrist, "is off me now, and yet it's weakened my magic considerably. I can't do much at the moment, meaning I can't app- teleport us, to the voices of authority. Meaning we are going to have to get out of here by car, meaning people are going to ask us questions if they see a beaten down man. So please, Tony. Right now. Don't?"

He doesn't think Harry realises how much information there is to unpack from that one statement alone.

1.) Magical bracelet? Has weakened magic.

2.) Voices of authority? Previous statement implied Wizarding Community.

3.) Teleportation? A _thing_.

It all really leads to the whole 'Magic Exists' subject that he never planned to revise for, but he is way too drained to pick that apart for the time being. He's just gonna allow himself to go with the ‘witch’ flow right now.

"Where's this magical bracelet now?" He concedes from the argument, but that's only because Harry's inflamed cheek is beginning to fade. His question also makes Harrys countenance brighten, so Tony'll take it, whatever.

She points to where the Piece of Shit lies, still clutching at himself. Pussy.

"I placed it on his wrist. He's no longer a threat."

"That's probably also due to you having _shot him_?"

Harry huffs. "Don't be silly. Just a spell I inflicted; it'll wear off in a few minutes."

Again. Too drained to question that.

Harry turns to Tony, giving him a once over again with a simple flick of her eyes. She must have a good assessment because her facial lines smooths out in relief. 

"We are quite isolated around here, but there is some form of life a few blocks away, I heard a couple of cars drive by during your unconsciousness. Patrick'll be fine in a few minutes, we'll go find transportation to a hotel. And have food, I'm hungry." She sneaks a peek at him, guilt radiating around her like perfume. “I’m sorry.”

Tony watches her, and there's something unsettling about how she speaks. Like this is normal, like she's dealt with this leadership aspect, as if it’s an ideal she's faced for years. Tony can only look at her in apt fascination, something unidentifiable fleeting in the pit of his stomach.

He thinks it might be fear.

“Let’s get some food. Patrick’s not eating, rainy day in hell and all that.”

\----------------------

It's Harry, Tony and Patrick all in one stuffy little cab.

It’s a miracle they actually have money. Harry told him not to worry about it, which means it’s magic related. So what, that’s her Bat Belt now? He is ninety nine point nine percent sure he has a look on his face that threatens to snap if there’s another mention about magic until Tony’s downed some junk food like it’s served to him in an inhaler, so he doesn’t push the money topic and neither does Harry.

The driver on the other hand is just _driving away_ , not realising or not caring for any of the tension between the three. Tony has plopped himself between the two in the back row, illogical because, well, Patrick could open the door of the car at any time and save his ass, but there is no way in _hell_ Patrick's sitting next to Harry who insisted she sit in the back to keep an eye on everyone so, fight him. This is the best decision he's ever made...possibly _ever_. And to keep Patrick from being a drama queen and fleeing the scene, he's resting his hand on Patricks' bony knee, a threat implied throughout the journey. If he goes out the car, Tony's using Patrick's ass as a place to land on him when he jumps out right after.

The driver keeps giving Tony and Patrick glances through the rear view mirror, and Harry's definitely giving Tony some powerful side eye. And because Tony's a little shit at heart, from time to time during the awkward drive, he gives Patricks' knee a little squeeze.

Tony deserves a medal.

"I think it's very brave." The driver comments, eyeing them again. "What you folks are doing. The world's not the most accepting about- well, I guess I don't need to tell you that."

 _Nosy drivers_. Ah, Tonys' bread and butter.

Another squeeze to Patrick's knee (the Creep meanwhile has a face that is slowly turning crimson, hell _yeah_ ); Tony puts on a gushing mask, cooing at his newfound lover. "Me and Patty go _way back_. It feels like this morning we were on a _roof_ together, talking about our future. Isn't that right, _Krabby Patty_?"

Patrick's glare is monstrous. Plus, if Tonys’ side eye is as impressive as Harrys is, he knows she has a similar expression written on her face.

The driver nods, clearing his throat with a booming, hearty chuckle. "Get a room! Or a cab of your own, eh!"

Tony puts on a giggle to rival that of the drivers, nuzzling his head on Patrick's stiff shoulder. "We'll save that for the motel, right _honey?_ "

There's a sharp pain in his shin, jerking him up in shock. Surprisingly, it's not Patricks' doing.

"What was _that_ for?"

Harry gives him a smile that could give out toothache and ultimately a cavity. "I don't know what you mean, _honey_."

The rest of the car ride is left in silence, Tony’s hand on Patrick’s knee firm.

\----------------------

They stop at a crappy looking restaurant in a town that looks like all the citizens use a cane. But Tony's hungry and so is Harry (maybe Patrick is, he doesn't really care in the slightest- the Creep probably brought a snack while they were passed out so _whatever_ ). They order a food and Harry's eyes never leaves Patrick's when she begins to question him.

"How did you find me?"

Patrick scoffs, crossing his arms in lame defiance. "You won't be getting anything from me, Miss Potter."

"You didn't seem to mind tell us your life story while we were tied up in front of you."

"I had reason to believe that you would be telling my life story, as you say, to your graves."

Tony feels his hands curl into fists. Better that than using the knife in front of him.

Harry looks undisturbed though. She nods as if what he said was normal, and continues the questioning like no hurdle was just hit. "So your plan was to kill me, then."

"Indeed. Do imagine the payment I would be provided from certain individuals.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow. “More than me alive?”

“As of recently, yes.”

Tonys’ nails dig into his flesh. So since the kidnapping he’s realised Harry is... _famous._

It makes sense. He remembers the budding panic he felt in that bathroom, at that book convention that feels like ages ago, yet feels like no time at all. The advice she gave him

_Names only hold so much power._

_As if you're just another page in a magazine those arses read to escape their boring lives._

_Chosen One. The Harriet Potter._

He has the sensation of beginning to understand certain things, yet understanding nothing at all. It's-

He experiences the impact of being _useless_. And if Patrick’s not full of shit... it means Harry’s a trouble magnet. Well, he should’ve known from the start. She attracted him after all. 

"I suppose you wouldn't tell me whose put me up on the black market. It's reassuring to know the dead or alive option is a category." She huffs out, eyes unseeing. Under the table, Tony nudges his hand with her own. He feels a tug of his lips going upward when their hands practically mould together in a tight unrelenting grip.

"Why the bunny?"

Harry has the semblance of curiosity. Patrick doesn't even look Tony's way. Asshole. 

"What?"

"I mean, if the magic thing is actual magic, and not just a gene that's developed into a mutation, just a theory but I'll talk about that later, if magic is actually real and you could turn into _any_ animal. I mean a bunny. _Really_?"

Patrick finally locks gazes with Tony, his lips thinning. Tony doesn't know how he was ever scared of this person. The only thing that brought fear within him was him being out of his depth, tied to a chair. Pointing a weapon at Harry.

Is it too late to connect a right hook to this guys jaw?

"I don't need to explain myself to you, _muggle_."

"Pet names already? _Saucy_. What should I call you? SpongeBobs best friend just doesn’t have the penash my main man should have, you know?”

"It doesn't matter if you don't tell us anything," Harry interrupts, casually waving a hand (the other one's locked in his own, so, _sorry Harry_ ). "We're apparating to the Wizarding World tomorrow, the authorities can deal with you then. Perhaps Azkaban awaits a new prisoner.”

Tony's eyebrows have definitely rocked up to meet his hairline. "We what now? What’s Ass Cabin?”

Harry turns to him, biting her lower lip in trepidation. Tony's mind is also a range of thoughts; Harry mentioned a Wizarding World, or a community or something like that. Does he _want_ to go? He felt useless around one (alleged, his mutation theory is solid) wizard, he can't help it if he feels out of his depth in a freaking community of them, and he doesn’t say that lightly- he rarely gets intimidated anymore. _But_. He needs to see this world for himself. _And_. Where Harry goes...well, you know. 

"You-" Harry's next words are said carefully, an edge of fear in her tone. "You don't have to come with us. I would never force you to tag along."

Okay, so Tony's definitely coming with.

“I’d say we could leave today, but someone had to go and capture us without taking our luggage. Not angry, just disappointed. My clothes are hot.”

All Patrick does is offer a smirk, and Harry squeezes his hand from under the table. He gets the message.

The food arrives, and no one says a word while they down what’s supposed to be tacos. In all fairness, if Patrick decided to comment on the weather or just open his mouth in general, Tony would find it hard to have his self control in check.

"I have to...relieve myself." Patrick announces halfway through the meal, already getting up as if entitled to move from the vicinity.

Self control, self control, self. Control.

Tony rolls his eyes, staring hard at Patrick. "Just say you need to pee or shit like a _normal person_."

"I didn't want to visualise that at all," Harry says, setting her fork aside, her appearance pinched. "And we are _not_ letting you wonder loose. You're lucky we brought you food."

“Which we’re not paying for. You have a wallet on you? We sort of only went and got robbed.”

Patricks' posture straightens, eyes narrowing. "It won't be long, and I know better than to abuse my...mercy."

" _Yeah_ , cause Harry would kick your ass, _again_ ," Tony snorts. He brings his other free hand towards Harrys' corner, who in turn bumps her fist against his, all the while focusing on an increasingly scowling Patrick.

"If you truly believe that, you would be secure with my journey"-

"Your _journey_? All aboard the Orient Express, the Titanic to Patricks' Mexican food revival?"

"Tony, no!" Harry pushes her plate further away from her, he's pretty sure she'd be glaring at him if she didn't have such an air of disgust. "Some people wanted to finish their meal!"

"Some people are taking a _journey_ to abandon their meal"-

Harry puts a hand over his mouth. If he was a lesser man he would totally lick her palm.

Alas.

"Does this mean I can leave for the lavatory?" Comes a very annoying voice; both Harry and Tony look to Patrick, whose peering at them with speculation, head slightly tilted in thought.

"If you're not back in five minutes"-

Patrick bows his head at Harry (what a _kiss ass_ ), "I understand".

When he goes to the stalls, Tony turns his attention right back to Harry. "I say we kill it before it lays eggs."

"Not funny, Tony." He can tell Harry's biting her the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from laughing, so Tony knows she's a big fat liar. After that they sit in silence, the first time they've really done that since...the um, ordeal. This is the first time he's been stress free with her in a while as well, except for that elephant in the room. Tony wants answers, he wants them _now_ , but he doesn't want a half assed response in the less than five minutes it'll take for Patrick to take a leak. He'll let Harry handle the small talk right now, since everything he wants to say to her at this moment is just plain _heavy_. 

"Eleven erections." Is what Harry decides to say.

Honestly, he'd have preferred silence.

Tony brings his arms over his chest casually, hoping he's not seen as defensive. He has a strong feeling he is.

"Oh you know, kidnapping situation, tied up, stress makes people think up the _craziest_ shit."

"I see. But, did you know, that if there is a heaven, my arse would definitely be on all the propaganda posters?"

"I hear a bee, oh _no_ I _hate_ bees, all that _buzzing_ , ugh. Kill me now."

Harry giggles brightly, and even exhausted her laughter is infectious. She bumps her hip against his; a hard feat seeing as they're already sitting so close together it probably looks like they've been glued at the booth.

"I suppose I am a pervert though," she muses. "An example you ask? First night on our road trip: you come in with that towel around your waist. I didn't know what to do with myself."

Something _clicks_. "You ran to the bathroom!" He says, glee imbedded into his triumphant tone. He _knew_ she was acting weird! His mood sobers down quickly, though. He's smart, he's _too_ smart, but even the dumbest of the dumb would know what stunt Harry's trying to pull.

"The Girl Who Lived." Harry says after the silence begins to thicken. Tony looks at her intently, pulled into whatever she's gonna say without a moments hesitation. 

"Patrick mentioned something like that. Anything to do with a, um, _Dark Lord_?"

A muscle in Harry's face ticks, almost cringing. It makes Tony's stomach clench; he almost apologises before Harry jerkily nods and continues.

"I mentioned me leaving the UK due to the terrorist attacks," he nods. "Well, my world was at war. And I was the figurehead."

All Tony can do is stare, the beating of his heart intensifying. He's starting to feel a bit nauseous. Harry makes to continue, except a flash of realisation crosses through her visage and she stops, giving him a grin that's half bitter half amused. "Patrick's taken a while, hasn't he?"

Tony's out of the booth in record time. "You check the bathroom I check outside?"

Harry gets up herself, giving him a sharp nod. "Deal."

He runs outside, checking for any tall skinny bastard who won't ever pee again if Tony has any say. He might be extremely paranoid and Harry could find him in an awkward position (yeah, maybe in hindsight they should have swapped roles, _sorry_ Harry) but that's only a small though when he sees Patrick, running away from the scene.

Not fast enough. Tony took track in college. Occasionally. 

"Patrick!" He screeches, sprinting at a rapid pace that is actually impressive in how quick he's approaching the lanky bastard. Patrick's head whips around to see him and his eyes widen, turning his head back and attempting to run quicker; as _fucking if,_ Tony's pretty much in Patrick's distance and he shamelessly dives in for a tackle. "You useless flaking piece of shit"-

————-

"Now Patrick. I personally think we got off on the wrong foot," Tony tells him back in the restaurant, dabbing some tissue on Patricks' bloody nose. He wants to do a little dance when the customers in the diner all turn a blind eye to Patrick’s...state. "Not gonna lie there, _slightly_ your fault. Call me crazy, but if someone's planning on going all _Misery_ on me, they should at _least_ buy me dinner first. Where were you for all those dinners, Patrick?"

"Do you ever," Patrick seethes, bruised eye twitching and voice nasal, "stop _talking_?"

"I can be silent with Harry." Tony tells him, matter of fact. "With people I like, in general." (Not really, it's never silent for him, his brain is chaotic and loud, so very fucking _loud_. "Not with psychopaths who kidnap for the shits and giggles. Plus, you don't have the bone structure to rock a beard. _And_ you're not cool enough to pull off the name Patrick."

Patrick _sneers_ , venom practically pouring out of the wrinkles of his features. "You're in over your head, _muggle_. Do you truly believe I am the _only one_ who wants to take the Chosen One for their own purposes? Do you expect Harriet Potter to save you and herself in _all_ those situations that, and believe me when I say, _will,_ happen? You are nothing but a foolish, unimportant _boy_ who has become so foolishly _blinded_ by love that you won't realise your utter stupidity until it is too late."

Tony leans into Patrick's space, unflinching in his gaze. "Let me ask you this, then." He hisses so quietly he sees Patrick slightly move his head further in the little bubble they've formed.

"Go on, muggle."

Tony takes a deep breath, his whisper dangerous and biting. "Who lives in a pineapple. Under the sea?"

Patrick's eyebrows furrow, eyes lost in thought. "What?"

"You found him!" Tony whirls his head to see Harry, relief drawn out on the line of her shoulders. "I checked the loo- mind you, we should've swapped roles for that part." Tony nods solemnly at that, sad for a Harry that could have potentially seen some _sights_. "He wasn't there, so I went outside- wasn't there."

"You probably went out the back door nearest to the bathroom, our Patrick's a little genius and decided to use one further away." Tony pats Patrick's head, maybe a _little_ too hard but really, who can tell?

"It wasn't difficult." Patrick mumbles irritably. "You two were so busy being an _old married couple_."

"Come now, Patty, if there _was_ a wedding, we would've invited you." 

Patrick looks like he wants to burn Tony alive. Several times. 

Harry glances questionably at Tony. "What happened to his nose? And jaw?"

"Oh, he fell."

"On your _fist_?"

Tony shrugs, "we also decided to play some rugby. I went in for the tackle, and Patrick...didn't stop it?'

Now, he's not a mind reader, _per se_ , but if he had to _assume_ what the people next to him were thinking, he'd say Harry is the 'I See I'm babysitting _Two_ Idiots Today, Whoop Dee Fucking _Doo_ ' type, and Patrick is along the 'Perhaps I Should Have Killed the Muggle Prick When I Initially Had Them Kidnapped' lines. 

Harry sighs, raising an eyebrow at Patrick, who actually seems chagrined. What the _fuck_.

"Are you going to apologise for giving us unneeded stress, Patrick?"

What? _Yes_. 

He clenches his jaw, Tony meanwhile is having a _field day_. 

" _Patrick._ "

The Creep mumbles something incoherent. At Harrys unimpressed stare (how cool is Harry, like, _come on_ ), Patrick speaks again. "I apologise. _Muggle_."

Tony claps his hands slowly. " _Beautiful_. Were you inspired by Pablo Neruda?"

Harry's eyes roll heavenward.

And Tony thinks about Patrick’s warning.

\--------------------------

He thinks about their chat.

He tries to ignore Patrick’s words; he may have acted like the shits he gave were non existent but he can replay the dialogue as if it’s a catchy song on the radio. But his mind is more drawn to anything and everything he knows and thinks he knows about Harriet Potter. And what he’s finding out- it’s too much. He's never wanted Harry to go through _anything_ rough, ever since he first saw her all he's ever wanted for her was pure and true happiness. It's corny as hell but that doesn't render his declaration false.

A figurehead. For a _war_.

A _Dark Lord_?

Losing a friend.

Losing a headmaster.

Dealing with too much attention.

Having dealt with worse pain.

Hating blood.

So many little hints about Harrys' life in the past month are all begging to be woven together, and Tony doesn't want to face it. Because his heart is aching, because out of all the people in this world, Harry doesn't even deserve something as trivial as a fucking _paper cut_.

And the whole time he couldn’t do anything, did nothing, during their time under Patrick’s shitty management. He’s never felt more useless.

He needs to talk to someone who'll make him feel better.

A healthy mind can promote ideas. Because he’ll never be that useless again.

\---------------------

They arrive at some crappy motel (the drive was in silence since Tony doesn't want his shin to like, fall off or something, thank you _very much_ ). They get two rooms, which Patrick rolls his eyes at but fuck him, and Harry tells Tony in the most simple wording she can apparently use, that she'll use her rested magic to shield Patrick's room so there is no way for him to get out.

As you do.

Maybe he’ll start a field for the studying of genetic mutation.

Back to the matter at hand, it’s not that Tony feels suffocated, it's just that it's been a long draining day, and Tony wants to talk about anything else with someone that doesn't know any better than to think a kidnapping's even been _considered_. So, Tony goes outside to make a phone call.

Because Rhodey is a gift that keeps on giving, he picks up on the third ring. When Tony hears his voice, an intake of emotions run through him at a quick pace, sending so much sheer happiness over him. God, he didn't even realise he'd missed his brother to that extent; happiness is now at war with guilt.

"Hello?"

"Rhodey?"

There's a pause, Tony drumming his foot over and over.

" _Tony_?"

Tony beams, wanting to laugh but also conscious that he's not starring in _It's a Wonderful Life_.

"How are you my special slice of chocolate fudge?"

There's another beat, in which Tony has time to consider that maybe in _hindsight_ he should've kept slightly more in touch.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you?!"

Ah. Hindsight.

"Not the reaction I was expecting if I'm honest, honey suckle." 

"Stay on the phone, I'm tracking you. I don't care anymore Tony, I've been worried _sick_!"

Tonys' guilt intensifies. "I sent messages"-

"You sent me a card with a note saying you'd become a _mid wife_ , Tony! One _fucking message_ with no information _whatsoever_!"

"Being a mid wife was _partly_ true. And I sent you a couple of voicemails"-

"It's been over a month, and that's all I got! I've been losing hair stressing about your _dumb ass_ and now you're calling as if everything's _okay?_! Fuck the tracker, tell me where you are and get the next flight back here. _Now_.

Tonys' face drops into something he knows resembles a cringe.

"I'm sorry, Rhodey."

"Sorry doesn't cut it. Buy a plane ticket. Now."

Tony huffs, resting his chin into the phone. "Can't we just _talk_ , Rhodes? I'll tell you everything, but- Come on sugar muffin. Catch up with me first?"

There must be something in his tone, something that's maybe reigned, maybe heavy, maybe desperate. Most likely all three, because Rhodeys' voice becomes gentler.

"Tell me what's going on, Tones."

Tony stutters out a breath of relief, hoping that Rhodey takes the crackling through the phone as Tony going through a tunnel or something. "I-this month has been something else."

"Good or bad?" That's his Rhodeykins, always straight to the point.

"Good. No, not _good_ , there's not a word- God, Rhodey, I don't know how to- where do I even _start_?"

"The beginning." Rhodey says wryly. "You still hanging with- what was her name?"

"Harry", is Tonys immediate reply. "Not Harriet, is makes her sound old."

\--------------------

Time has always flown when he's with Rhodey, and phone calls are no exception. They have a catch up (Rhodey refuses to talk about his life until he accepts that Tony has eaten right, slept well, and has an improvement in mental health. A yes to all three, and Tony finds that he's actually being serious on his part. Nothing too dramatic has happened in the Rhodey Diaries, which is a relief, knowing things haven't changed too much in his absence. Obie's apparently fine, continuing Stark Industries as Howard left it (Tony can't _wait_ until he's twenty one, Stark Industries will thrive and _surge_ ), and the news dedicated an article to a certain Tony Stark having fled to Europe to reconnect with his partying ways (a flare of anger spikes through him at that, but, like he said, _twenty one_. They'll all see.) When he sees the darkening sky though, he knows he should hang up and probably go to bed.

"I should go to bed soon, Sunset Boulevard. You know me, needing my beauty sleep."

"And the fact that Harry's sharing a hotel room with you has nothing to do with you ending this call." Comes Rhodey's amused narration.

Tony is indignant, sniffing with his nose up in the air. "I _resent_ that, I'm nothing but a _gentleman_ , Cinnamon Swirl."

"I'm just saying, two hour phone call and all I'm hearing is how cool your girl is."

"She's not my girl, she's my"-

"Your Harry."

-"My friend. _Damn_ , I leave you alone for one month and you develop _sass_ , it's too much, I can't cope."

"Do you love her?" Rhodey asks, a small smile evident in his speech. Tony's about to squawk, and then a grin plays across his lips, something soft having settled at his core.

"She's alright. I gotta go, Rhodey. I promise I'll call you soon."

He can hear the eye roll from across the multiple states between them. 

\---------------------

When Tony enters the hotel room, he thinks he might have gotten the wrong place.

There are candles everywhere. All unlit, all cheap as hell (his mo- yeah, his mother had candles all over their house twenty four seven, he knows what an expensive set smells like even when not in use) and there's only certain space where the candles aren't around. Harry sits on the edge of the bed, watching him with a tiny grin.

"Hey," she greets him, getting up and walking towards him with apparent hesitation. For once Tony gets why; Harry's got some kind of raging guilt complex. Which is- he guesses everyone's got a thing, got an insecurity, but Harry doesn't need any, none at all.

"No, _nope_." Tony starts, bringing a hand up when Harry begins to open her mouth with apologetic features. It's time for asshole Tony, it's time for not taking anyone's unnecessary words. "I don't want any form of apology from you. Unless you know, you do something straight up _evil_ ; like...you purposefully hit my puppy. I mean, I don't _have_ a puppy, but if I did and you just hit them that would just _not_ be okay. Unless you had your reasons? It would have to be _so_ compelling though, like if it was a _possessed_ puppy, or batshit crazy. You ever seen _Cujo_?" 

"How did this conversation become about hitting puppies? And isn't being an accessory in a kidnapping worse than kicking a puppy?"

Tony shrugs. "Depends on who you ask. And don't even try to twist this to make yourself some kind of villain, we've been there done that. Twice now, I think."

A silence stretches out in their room, Tony fiddling with his hands that remain behind his back. He surveys the room around him.

"Was it like this when we got here?"

Harry shakes her head. "It was an idea I had. I'll explain."

"Everything?"

Harry brings about an air of sincerity. It's insane, having that much presence in such a small room. " _Everything_." She exhales roughly, rubbing a hand across her face. I know you want answers"-

"Understatement of the year"-

"And I'm here to provide them." Her eyes go from creased, scowling, to sobering up; her lips form into a coy, pretty much secretive smile. It's full of mirth and _promise_ , which gets his heart to start pumping at a slightly more erratic pitch. He's basically entered the anticipation stage of the ordeal, knowing something like excitement is creeping up on him.

"May I show you now?"

It might be the sparkle in her eyes, or the flash of hope that dances across her guise, but Tony doesn't think he's wanted anything more.

 _Well,_ he briefly glances at Harry's lips. _There might be one thing_.

Harry takes her hands out and opens her palms, which he with no hesitation puts his own over, fingers instantly meeting and lacing together on impact. He has big hands (now is not the time for an innuendo, pervert), big, gruff hard hands. He blames himself for that mishap, all the work he does in his lab at home and at college has changed his skin in adaptation of his work. But Harry's are soft and small, a gentle touch which, he's known, he's felt for a while. Something clocks in his brain, seeing as he believes everything about Harry falls into place with him. It's funny, he used to see Harry as a puzzle, and yet Tony thinks that maybe, just maybe, he might be some of the pieces-

Okay, he's legitimately digressing with this Nicholas Sparks bull crap. Harry's also giving him a look, so he needs to act normal and calm the absolute fuck down.

He squeezes her hands lightly. Her pupils lock with his, and when they shut Tony feels an irrational sense of longing.

Shut up.

Harry seems to be concentrating on something, eyes fluttering under her lids. It should be awkward, just standing there holding her hands patiently and watching her while she flees the mental scene. But his heart is drumming faster with every second, differently from the kidnapping, since this is an actual welcome sensation.

Then Harry mutters a word.

"Incentio."

All the candles in the room light up at once like clockwork, the room brightening up all around him as if fireworks. A soft gasp leaves him and he whips his head all over the place. His eyes have lit up too, he knows, and he takes his hands from Harry's gentle grip (the loss of contact makes him cold for a second before he remembers that all the candles will heat him up, Jesus Christ) before he begins to inspect a candle from his right.

There’s a period of time where Tony has no clue what to say. No word vomit, no weird sounds coming from his lips. Tony doesn’t know how to express himself, express what’s going on around him.

"I- so I might need to admit I might have been wrong. You could still be a mutant, but- not delusional in the slightest."

Harry's grin is bright and indulgent, gazing at him fondly and kind of smug. She's a little shit who managed to-

“Still swaying towards science, then?”

"Science might just be failing me about now."

Harry practically glides towards him, the lights around her brightening up the lines of her form, making it look like a halo over her body. Maybe Tony was right when they first met. She could very well be an angel, a Siren. It's a genuine thought right now, he's not even kidding.

Tony puts the candle back in its place and moves so they're standing in front of each other. In that moment she appears shy, and he will never understand her reasoning for that emotion. Out of all the people in the world, she should have the most limited amount of bashfulness.

"I meant what I said. On the roof." She tells him, her tone soft, soothing. Tony feels something lightly wrap around his heart, it's consuming.

"So did I." Is all he can say, and he brings his forehead down to meet hers, mirroring the last time they did this but twisting it from some kind of tragedy into- we’ll, he doesn’t know what. They don't have borrowed time anymore, and Tony won't abuse it. Not now.

He doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't know what's going to happen, They're apparently going to the _Wizarding World_ tomorrow, which is scary and exciting and terrifying and _fantastic_. And Tony's going to learn all he can about this girl, this magical girl who literally appeared out of no where one day and brought a hand out for him to take. He can hear Patrick's words in the background, a warning and a threat rolled into a monologue, but he'd rather live on the edge with Harry at his side than not live at all. Wouldn't anyone?

"Wanna tell me the low down then, Potter? Come on _Chosen One,_ do your worst."

And so she begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated w this chapter than thought fuck it mehhhh we leading out of the arc into da new cool one *insert thug life memes*
> 
> *coughs* so if you wanted to, pffft, leave a review or whatever, pffttt feel free to you know, do that *cough*
> 
> i love u all


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patricks like WAIT WHAT and Harry and Tony irritate the piss out of him also harry realises she has no chill
> 
> And stuff is revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sending love to you all during this time! I know its tough atm so I hope this can make your day even slightly better, lots of love you amazing people

“You’re _actually_ taking me to the Wizarding World?” Patrick splutters. It’s so out of his normal cavalier attitude that Harry is momentarily shocked; trust Tony to fill in the resounding surprised silence.

“If _I_ can pass that information with remarkable mental strength than so can you, _Swayze_.”

Patrick ignores him, regarding Harry in a way that almost seems panicked. “I had assumed this was an idle threat. I’d been told you were merciful.”

“ _Who_? Who told you _that_?” Harry places her hands on her hips for good measure, though she tries to keep her voice down: yelling in an alleyway attracts attention none of them need. And Patrick seems to be in denial, since he hasn’t tried to run away since the day before. Not that the charm would let him, of course.

“Harry,” Tony says softly, giving her a gentle flick to the cheek. When she gives him her attention she’s rewarded with an encouraging smile. “He’s winding you up, trying to get out of the authorities’ business. Trust me, I’ve seen this countless of times. Hostage situations gone wrong and all.”

It’s almost as if he doesn’t realise his words are winding her up more than Patrick as a whole.

“Ah yes, that. Did they catch all the…hostage initiators?”

Tony seems to realise himself, straightening up and clearing his throat. “Story for another time, gorgeous.”

“One I won’t forget to ask about.” Harry sends him a cutting look. Because Tony may speak more than the average human being, but he rarely _says_ anything. Though, pot calling kettle black, she knows. Last night could give her the upper hand, however.

Nothing seems to have changed between them since then.

Harry was expecting a tinge of awkwardness, perhaps obliviousness from the night before. But though nothing has been discussed, Tony has been gazing her with something close to admiration, and a hint of an aspect similar to that of fondness. Harry doesn’t know how to approach this, and since she was _particularly_ truthful in recent hours, she’ll let him handle what happens next between…well, them.

“Yeah, yeah. So, how we getting to the uh, ministry? Yep, ministry, got it. What did you call it again? Apple-ating?”

“Don’t mock wizarding terms again, filthy muggle”-

“Patrick,” Harry warns, her words biting. Patrick locks gazes with her immediately and rather unnervingly. “I’d appreciate if you only spoke when addressed. She taps her finger to her lips for good measure.

Tony lets out a snort.

“And no,” she adds, turning her attention back to Tony, where it actually wants to be. “We’re _apparating_ to a certain destination that will take us to the ministry. It’s been incredibly strict lately, what with a new construction after the war.”

“Right.” Tony is clipped, a rather odd change from his relaxed demeanour. “The war.”

\----------------------------

_“I have a lot of baggage.” Are her opening words, making Harry cringe, mostly out of frustration then actual embarrassment. Opening up is…harder than anticipated._

_She’s never really been an open person._

_From an early age Harry had been taught that the truth was not something to be shared off the bat. Even with Ron; even with Hermione, her brother and sister, validity was never something Harry had to actively ensure. People simply just knew more about her life than she did._

_But Harry wants to tell Tony the truth, for the first time she is actively trying to bare all (well, not_ all _) but it’s difficult to go about. Especially with Tony’s patience, if he had been angry she could easily lose her temper and find a reason not to tell him._

 _Merlin, this is_ horrendous _._

 _Tony’s about to say something, probably a quip to ease the growing tension. And it’s so perfectly_ Tony _, so adorable and unknowingly selfless, that it reminds her of why she’s doing this. So before he can speak, she does._

 _“Weird things used to happen around me before I was eleven.” Tony’s attention snaps to hers, unwavering. “Especially when I was angry. And, to keep a long story short, on my eleventh birthday, I was informed that I was a witch That there was a Wizarding_ World _and within it a school full of people like me, witches and wizards, where I could go from then on. That it could be somewhere I belonged.”_

_“Like a cult?”_

_Harry huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “No, just a magical boarding school.”_

_Tony squints, clearly biting his tongue. “Right, of course.”_

_Harry chooses her next words carefully, “when I first went to the Wizarding World I noticed people knew my name. It felt like they knew more about me then_ I _did. Which was odd; I excused it at first- my parents had died when I was a baby, you see, so when people knew about me, I just thought- you know, my parents.” Harry flushes, irritated by her story telling; she can’t get her speech out right and it’s_ troubling _. “I’m sorry. I’m not doing this right.”_

_Tony shrugs. “You’re doing great. Feels like I’m there.”_

_She huffs again from amusement. Tony’s such an_ git _._

 _“I’m sorry, do_ you _want to tell the story?”_

_“Nope, excuse the old foot in mouth. I love your story telling, I’m digging it, continue. I’m all ears.”_

\----------------------------

“So,” Tony claps his hands together. “How do we do this? Is it like, joining together in a circle? Or clicking your feet together? _There’s no place like the ministry, there’s no place like the ministry_. Oh, come _on_. _Wizard of Oz_? Have you ever even _looked_ at a movie screen?”

“We saw Star Battles together!” Harry crosses her arms indignantly.

Tony groans, “Star _Wars_. Was that on purpose? I feel attacked, was I just attacked on purpose?”

“When you are attacked, you will _know_.” Patrick says, his voice an octave lower than usual. Harry looks at him for a few seconds, before turning back to Tony; she notes Tony has done the same thing.

“Star Battles sounds better. Because the film is a series of battles, is it not?”

“Star _War_ s. It’s catchier, no one would go and see _battles_ in _space_. _Lame_ , I expected better from you, Potter. Seriously, respect for you has decreased. Significantly.”

“Well of course you like Star Wars _now_. But you would be agreeing with me right now if in another life it had been advertised”-

“Enough!” Comes a snap, Harry once again turns to see Patrick practically appearing _constipated_. “I have had enough of this gibberish! It is clear you want me to divulge information to you of who set the bounty on your head, and that you are using annoying trivial chatter to convince my lips into confessing.”

Tony points a thumb at him. “This isn’t working out. I can’t have a fun sponge tagging along in this iconic pairing, he’s out.”

Harry nods in agreement. Patrick just interrupted them, and, well, she hates to be possessive, but _no one_ has the right to interrupt them.

“We should apparate now. The sooner he’s off, the better.”

Patrick casts a wary glance at her; Harry feels scrutinised, as if she’s under a microscope. “Surely you don’t think you’re powerful enough to successfully _apparate_.”

Harry straightens. “You’d be surprised. Now, Tony. I’m afraid this might be…unpleasant. But you don’t have to”-

“I’m going.” Tony says, raising his eyebrows as if she’d said something silly. “And hey, I can deal with unpleasant. Stark, remember? I’m a badass.”

“I know,” she smiles at him, all too happy when he smiles back. It’s a secret smile, one that’s hiding so much, and yet Harry’s not completely positive as to what’s being hidden. As per usual she takes her hand in his, and reluctantly does the same with Patrick, whose hands are predictably clammy.

“One last chance to wait for me here until I come back.”

“I’m not a _loser,_ Potter.”

She closes her eyes, and a pull grabs her under. 

\--------------------------

_“I found out that I was famous, and why I was famous…rather quickly,” Harry continues, twisting her palms together._

_“How famous are you?” Tony’s sentence is laced with curiosity, his eyes flashing in interest._

_“Very.” She doesn’t mean to say it with such bitterness, but she cannot pretend that this is the life she wanted. Fame has attached itself like gum to a shoe and try as she might she knows she will never manage to scrape it off. “When I was one, there was a war taking place, lead by a powerful dark wizard. My parents were targeted and killed by him in my home. And he tried to kill me soon after, but my mum had placed a charm on myself before her death, that when he tried to end my life, his spell ended up killing him instead. Do you understand?”_

_Tony nods slowly. “So your mom killed him?"_

_“I suppose so.” She had never really thought of it like that._

_“So you go to this magic school and everyone thinks you’re the shit.”_

_“I was hailed as slaying the Dark Wizard, yes. Tom, his name was. Tom. He wasn’t dead though, like everyone believed, he was wounded, and managed to escape to safety.”_

_She doesn’t want to think about him, she hates the thought of him, his presence. So she looks at Tony instead, hoping whatever he says can suck all the negative thoughts from her mind like a vacuum. He doesn’t say anything though, he just continues to wait for her to speak. He’s truly never been this silent, it’s too different for her to process this correctly._

_“I went to this school- Hogwarts, that was its name, and. For years he and his followers tried to kill me, essentially. Until my fourth year, where a ritual healed him completely. He came back and quickly restarted the war. And since I was his- failure?- I’m not sure- well, I became the figurehead of the war.”_

_\-----------------------_

Tony is throwing up on the alley near the underground.

Harry feels _awful_. She knows apparition can be terrible, and here is the best evidence for it. She rubs a hand up and down his back as he heaves; she feels utterly useless seeing as all she can provide for him is support. She’s always preferred the route where _actual action_ is taken.

“I’m good.” Tony gives her a thumbs up. “Strong stomach, me.”

“Evidently.” Harry deadpans. This bloke is _stubborn_.

Tony makes an indignant noise from his throat. “I’ll have you know, that I once outdrank a bartender. I’ll outdrink _you_ , Miss _Lightweight_.”

“You’re on. I could outdrink you in my sleep.” She’ll introduce him to fire whiskey soon, he will not live to see the day.

“I’ll ignore that since I’m a sucker for honouring your pride.” Tony straightens, seeming to have relaxed. “So that was the teleport thing? I wonder how the cells within humans”-

“Where are you taking me?” Patrick’s become a narrator in the past few hours apparently, seeing as he interrupts every conversation Harry and Tony have tried to have. Harry knows Patrick wouldn’t get far if he decided to run (Harry, not to pride herself too much, had created a charm that’s prevented him from even _jogging_. _Hermione had taught her that_ , she adds in her mind with melancholy.)

“We close to the…Magic Parliament?” Tony asks bemusedly. Harry rather enjoys seeing him so caught off-guard. “And hey, maybe we can meet Ron? I’m a sucker for red heads, swear to god.”

“We’re not seeing Ron.” Harry mutters, though it’s said too quickly to be taken as a casual comment.

She wants to see Ron. But…not until she’s ready.

Tony seems to understand her, his eyes flashing in understanding, not to broach the subject. He’s too good to her, she knows. “So where are we going?”

When Harry points to the station, Tony’s expression forms into amusement.

“Uh, not that I’m not crazy about the subway, it’s all I think about at night, but…what?”

“Trust me,” Harry says, pulling her hair into a pony tail and covering her head with a hat for good measure. The clothes she’s wearing are masculine and cover up most of her face, so she won’t be looked at twice. “And we Brits call this the tube. Just some British trivia for you.”

“So literally the only thing you know about culture is the right name for the English subway? We need to get you on a quiz show ASAP.”

“You _are_ joking about this route to our world, aren’t you? How childish. But _oh_ , I _see_. You want to _scare_ me, make me believe we’re going to the ministry. A clever attempt, Miss Potter.”

“Oh _wow_ , Patrick’s talking, great. I was about to ask Harry over here if she had seen a rainbow, _so_ happy we got the next best thing.”

“ _Miss Potter_ , please tell your muggle”-

“ _Harry_ , please tell your wizard friend to grow a set of balls and talk to me himself.”

“Both of you are idiots.” Harry rolls her eyes. She then sees Tony’s pout and decides to concede. “Except you.”

Tony beams, “that’s the spirit!”

“I have had enough of you utter _fools_.”

“We’re not so fond of you either. Shit personality, _terrible_ fashion sense. Not to mention the kidnapping, it just put me off, I don’t know, call me crazy.”

“The plan,” Harry speaks over the incessant squabbling; the second they send Patrick to the authorities the better. “Is to enter the public loos- seeing how you two are male we’ll go to the men’s area. We step in the toilet seat and will be flushed down the toilet to the ministry. Got it?”

There’s a beat.

A very long beat.

And then finally:

Tony bursts into laughter; a hand holding his stomach in support, and for a while both Patrick and Harry look at Tony, waiting for him to realise she’s being completely sincere. When he does eventually quieten, he looks at Harry with a dropped jaw.

In hindsight, she maybe should have practiced her plan in more sensible words beforehand.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“ _Harriet_.”

“ _Anthony._ ”

“It today April the First?”

“Not yet, no.”

“You’re legitimately telling me, _with a straight face_ , that a way to get to the…Wizard Parliament, is by going in a _shitter_?”

“A _shitter_? Patrick chimes in, his nose crinkled. “One of us was _clearly_ raised in a barn.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Rickster,” Tony mutters absentmindedly, not even peeking in Patrick’s direction. “I’m sure all the ladies were queueing up to get a look at you in all your barn glory. Back to the topic at hand- Harry- _seriously_? Will my shoes _smell_ after? Do I have to throw out my _shoes_? Or can you clean them with your magic? Damn, wrong day to wear these beauties.”

\-----------------------------

Entering one stall with all three of them is slightly difficult.

Patrick seems to be under the impression that they’re playing a practical joke on him; he’s not making any move to run away and looks at them as if constantly waiting for the punchline. Harry almost pities him.

Tony, noticeably does _not_.

“Alright, entering the bathroom. Ew, Harry! Someone can’t aim. Patrick, did you do this?”

“I have been with you the entire time, how could I _possibly_ ”-

“Hey!” A gruff voice interrupts the discussion; Harry turns to see a big man, tattoos on both arms which are folded. “One person at a time.”

“Sorry mate,” Tony speaks in a surprisingly decent British accent. “Nothing like a three way on a Friday, am I right? _Ta_.”

They quickly manage to huddle in before the man can say anything, which is a success, until the man starts banging on the door.

They all step inside the toilet seat with rapid speed, Tony making a face on the impact with his shoe in the water.

“If you hadn’t provoked the muggle _fool_ ”-

“He’s just jealous he doesn’t have people to go to a bathroom stall with, back me up Harry”-

Harry wants to melt into the toilet water. Instead of doing this, however, she pulls the flush, gripping Tony as he gasps at the sensation.

It is black for a few moments

\----------------------------

_“A figurehead,” Tony seems to be taking this information quite well, though his foot is consistently drumming the ground. “So, what? You were used for propaganda?”_

_“I was seen as the leader of the war,” Harry clarifies, Tony’s foot stops drumming. “And my headmaster- he saw it as up to me, to us, to finish Tom off once and for all. See, Tom had put his soul into something called horcruxes- objects, basically. As long as these objects remained undestroyed, he could live forever. My headmaster and I planned to destroy them all, before his death. Then it was up to me, me and my friends.”_

_“He just threw that responsibility on you.”_

_Harry shrugs, an act more careless than she actually feels. “It was the only way. For a year me and my two friends searched for the horcruxes. Until Tom found out. We came back to my school for the final battle, destroyed the horcruxes, and I managed to kill Tom."_

_It’s incredibly watered down. It’s surface, it’s the most basic form of detail one can provide, but it’s something. She just can’t tell him every single thing right now, she doesn’t know if she could without draining herself, without scaring him away._

_Tony, for his part, remains silent, his face stone faced and processing._

\-----------------------------

Harry has lost her hat.

It is something she focuses on to distract herself from the overload of emotion. Where did her hat go? Did it get lost in terms of transport? She didn’t particularly like the hat, but now she is left bare and vulnerable; anyone can identify her easily, she feels practically naked.

The ministry is as Harry expected it to look like. It is under reconstruction, a whole new change from the war, an announcement declared a week after the final battle. She’s taken back to the last time she set foot here; when she, Ron and Hermione had gone there under disguise. The atmosphere is as dark and gloomy as ever and Harry still has the sense of being an intruder rather than the hero everyone seems to think she is.

“We’re here.” She whispers, more to herself than to her two visitors she came here with, and Harry doesn’t know why her hand is shaking, but it is.

Until it is gently taken into a grasp. Tony’s hands are always comforting, they’re always warm and inviting.

“I’m definitely numb.” Tony muses aloud, taking everything in. “I’ve been flushed down a toilet, I feel like seeing this is next to nothing. Is this where wizards make decisions? How can they sign papers with this lighting?”

He’s trying to lighten the mood, she realises. There is a spread of such warmth within her that Harry wants to take him in her arms and squeeze as tight as she can; she doesn’t know how to process the giddiness inside her that makes her feel like a bottle of champagne. It turns out she doesn’t have the time to. She hears a gasp in front of her, and she looks to see a Wizard staring at her intently, flushed.

“ _Harriet Potter_?”

Well. She knew she had to face the music.

“Pleasure. I am here to escort a prisoner, is there somewhere”-

The man’s eyes widen in shock, mouth parting as if physically slapped. Which throws Harry right off, seeing as the man is looking at _Tony_.

“Don’t move, Miss Potter. There is- a _muggle_ \- next to you.”

She means, yes. She’s _holding his hand_. Merlin, this man is an actual idiot.

“Well, yeah, he came with me. I’m here to escort”-

“I will alert security!” The man practically shrieks, which is really just all around unnecessary. Though Harry feels like a fool- why did she bring Tony here? She should have known there would be a reaction, but she wasn’t aware people would just know he was a muggle- is that a thing? Do wizards just know these days?

“That’s really not necess”-

The barmy man has already fled the scene. Harry wants to outwardly sigh and pace; she should have known nothing went smoothly in this dark hole.

She turns to Tony to apologise.

“If you even think about apologising I will poke you.”

Harry’s mouth snaps shut. Her hand within his tightens, her own language of comfort.

\-----------------------------

_“So that’s why you left?” Tony asks her, sitting next to her on the bed. His voice is rough from misuse; it has been time since he has spoken. For an hour he’s been sitting on the motel chair, hand covering mouth in his thoughts. She’s missed his voice._

_“It wasn’t safe for me to remain in Britain. That and, well, you know. My friend.”_

_She doesn’t want to think about that even more than she did Tom._

_Tony gazes at her for a few moments, his eyes brimming with something Harry cannot identify. He takes his hand and cups her cheek, stroking his thumb across her skin back and forth. Harry is startled._

_“I don’t know what I can say.” Tony says gently, continuing to hold her face so delicately she feels like a piece of china. “I just- I meant what I said, you know? You’re so brave, Harry. You don’t even know it.”_

_Harry doesn’t want to protest; if she does he’ll convince her of this fact, he has such a way with words. But she doesn’t want to be disillusioned, see._

_“So you believe me then?”_

_“You weren’t lying about,” he gestures to the candles scattered around the room, “why would you lie about this? I mean, I know I haven’t gotten the full story,” a gives her a knowing look, “but- I don’t know what to say. You’re a_ hero _, Harry.”_

_The genuinely in his stare causes a shiver to tingle down her spine._

\------------------------

The group confronting them are practically _comical_.

Their wands are raised as if in unison, and it looks so rehearsed and of course, _comical_ , that Harry almost doesn’t see it as a threat.

Almost, being the key word.

Harry aims her own wand at the ready, stepping in front of Tony in a gesture that is clear and precise. From the corner of her eye she sees Patrick move in next to Tony so he’s behind her too. It’s cowardly, it pisses Harry off, it fuels her on.

“Back off,” she says loudly, her voice echoing in the ensuing silence. She levels the group with a piercing stare, which is only furthered when she sees the same expression reflected back at her.

“Miss Potter,” someone on the left, a scruffy looking man with a chin dimple sneers: Harry’s hackles rise. “You understand that precautions must be taken to prevent muggles from”-

“I believe our subject deserves a hearing. Not something the ministry is familiar with, but I am. You’re not touching my man with a _ten-foot pole_.”

It takes a full ten seconds of nothing being said, to realise she may have said…too much.

“My _men_ ,” she clarifies. It takes _another_ ten seconds to realise that’s only made the whole thing even _worse_. She can hear Patrick shift, feet scraping against the floor. Harry has no idea what Tony’s thinking, she’s happy in ignorance, really.

“Miss Potter,” the man sighs; Harry thought she was above hitting someone unprovoked and yet here she is, fists beginning to clench. “It is _impertinent_ that we do not allow a muggle”-

“Is that discrimination? It sounds like discrimination.”

Harry whirls around to give Tony a sharp glare, hoping he gets the message to be _quiet_. He locks eyes with her, not moving anywhere when he continues to talk.

“I’m staying with Harry. Don’t wanna…boast, or anything, but you wave that wand in my direction? I don’t think Miss Potter over here is gonna be having any of that.

The group all look hesitant in their next approach, before slowly lowering their wands. Harry smirks at Tony, pride probably leaking through her facial features. Tony offers her a soft wink.

“The muggle situation will have to be addressed.”

“I understand. I’ll have to be with him, obviously. Meanwhile, you can take this man,” she points at Patrick, “away. He is a bounty hunter who attempted to kill me and…my man. He’s wearing a magic preventing bracelet, or something like that.”

A woman in the group, with tanned skin and blonde short hair, nods and makes way to take Patrick away. “Must be an idiot bounty hunter than. Why put the Prevention Jewellery on one’s self?”

Harry doesn’t know how idiots are working in the ministry. Is this a new development? Or was she always too young to be fully disillusioned?

“Well, of course not. I put it on him.”

The woman looks at her as if she’s asinine. “Don’t be ridiculous, Miss Potter. Only the magic caster can take off the Prevention. It’s impossible to remove it otherwise.”

“I want to speak to Harriet Potter!” Patrick says loudly, nodding erratically. “Before you take me away, I’d like to talk to you. Alone.”

Harry is about to shake her head vehemently, until Patrick once more shocks her.

“ _Please_.”

\-----------------------------

“You can’t be serious,” Patrick’s expression is impassive, and yet the tick in his jaw betrays his attempt at neutrality.

“It’s not up to me now.” She says, drained of energy at this day she just wants to be _over_. She walks towards the door Tony’s behind; Harry won’t leave him for another second alone in the magic world- word or not, the ministry will always reek of corruption and distrust to her. “The authorities will deal with you, like I told you yesterday.”

“I was told you were _merciful_ , Miss Potter.”

“That didn’t stop you from _kidnapping_ me, did it?” Harry snaps, rounding on him as a quickly takes a step back. “That didn’t stop you from trying to _kill_ me, trying to kill _Tony_. And _what_? Now you want me to grant you _mercy_ when I would have been given the opposite treatment? The bruise on my face hasn’t even _begun_ to heal yet, Patrick. Had it not been for my magic, Tony may have had a brain injury- and if Tony has _one bad dream_ containing you in them I will take you from the ministry’s hands and deal with you _myself_."

She has never seen someone look so afraid of her in her life. He’s looking at something in her eyes, of what she is not sure. But it seems to be _something_ of substance if he’s shrinking in on himself this much.

“I wouldn’t have killed him,” he says, mouse-like.

Harry scoffs, “you threatened to kill him in front of me. Don’t try and weasel out of what you’ve done.”

“I didn’t _mean_ it,” he implores. “I would have just killed _you_ , that was all she asked for.” Patrick snaps his mouth shut.

Harry freezes.

“Who’s _she_?”

“Let me _go_.” Patrick’s eyes shin in hope, and whether she likes it or not, Harrys insides squirm with guilt. “I’ll tell you _everything_ , _please_ , I _promise_. Don’t leave me here, I can’t go to Azca- I _can’t_!”

Patrick falls to his knees, trying to take Harry’s hands in his, like Tony and her did yesterday; it’s such a pale and tainted imitation that Harry immediately slaps his hands from hers. When she does this, Patrick begins to tremble.

“Why didn’t you say anything yesterday?”

“I thought you were _lying_! I didn’t realise the extent of your power! Please, Miss Potter. _Please_.”

She has never seen someone begging this much. Apart from Pettigrew.

That thought does not do much for her…mercy.

“I have never liked when people have tried to take what’s mine away from me.” She murmurs, a part of her revelling when Patrick’s shaking increases. “You’re a _liar_ , Patrick. Given the chance you would have killed Tony in a heartbeat.” She bends down to be face level with him. “And I can’t forgive that. Whoever told you I had mercy was a liar too.”

“Miss Potter, I am on my _knees_. _Begging_.”

Harry takes one last look at him, searching the lines of despair practically stapled to his visage. She shouldn’t be gleeful, she _shouldn’t,_ and yet a small tug upwards of her lips reveals a little smirk that she can’t mask.

Swiftly she rises and walks to the exit with measured steps, ignoring the echoes of pleas thrown at her in her wake.

“Whoever she is, I’m not afraid of her, Patrick. She’ll become the ministries problem, just like you. I wish you luck.” She opens the door.

“Miss Potter! _Harriet_! _Please_!”

The door closes with a reverberating shut.

\---------------------------------

It’s not like she just forgets about the whole encounter.

They had quickly left the ministry, Harry feigning illness and holding onto Tony’s hand like it came personally attached to her in the mail. They left with promises of return to address the ‘muggle issue’, they left knowing the promise was utter bull.

The ministry has become worryingly obtuse.

But it’s Patrick, that is all Harry can think about for the rest of the day. Tony seems to realise she’s got something on her mind: he suggests a hotel in the muggle world, and when they apparate he doesn’t even throw up.

He’s always been so impressive.

And yet, her thoughts stray from Tony to Patrick’s words. She. Is she real? Was he a last attempt to make her want to keep him? Harry is unsure, nothing is making sense at this moment.

Except one thing.

_Merciful._

Patrick had said her to be merciful.

No one has ever said that of Harry.

To say that, they wouldn’t know about Hermione.

 _Merciful_.

Someone has been _mocking_ Harry.

Someone with a bounty on her head.

\--------------------------------

“I think I’m going mad,” she tells Tony later. They both lie on the bed of the hotel looking at the ceiling. The ministry, like she said, want her back tomorrow, to question her relationship with the ‘muggle’ and the information he knows. That won’t happen though, Harry’s never letting Tony set foot in such a horrid environment again.

“Finally, you figured it out.” Tony’s fingers rake through Harry’s head, softly stroking through the locks and occasionally fiddling with the ends. They’ve been like this for a while, lying in silence and locked in their own thoughts. Tony’s probably still thinking of her revelation, and Harry’s thinking of Patrick.

“I’m serious. I left Patrick there despite his screaming. You heard it yourself, it was awful.”

Tony adjusts his position, his chin resting on her head. “After what he did, I don’t know if I care. Wait, I know. I don’t care.”

It’s not enough to satiate her, though.

“I’m being more reckless than usual, too. I shouldn’t have brought you with me to the ministry; I don’t know how they identified you, but they did, and they could have done damage.”

“I would have gone with you had I known either way.” He says it like it’s the final word in the conversation; he’s never been good at showing emotions since they met, but his words always have so much hidden meaning. Harry finds it staggering. “You know I’m a clingy bitch. It’s something I’ve recently accepted, and now you have to as well.”

“But I should have _known_ there was a chance of danger.” Harry insists, sitting up. “It was days ago when we were both in danger, both tied up and vulnerable. I should have known _better_. And- I’m not sure if he was lying, but Patrick mentioned a woman whose been talking about me”-

“He was trying to save his own skin. Besides the fact that you’re travelling means whoever this real slash non-real person is, won’t be able to find you.”

“But Patrick did.”

“Creep was _lucky_. The ministry is gonna get all the information on that tool and let you know as soon as possible.”

“I still put you in danger!” Doesn’t he _understand_?

Tony sits up too, his eyes heated. “Don’t use this as an excuse to leave, Harry. Don’t think I’ll be safe without you- hostage situations, remember? Famous, remember? I’ll never be safe, and as much as you don’t think it, I’m much safer in a room with you then I _ever_ was by myself. So deal with it. Okay?”

Harry shakes her head, Tony takes his hands and rests them on both sides on her face. He seems almost desperate, an emotion Harry never associated with Tony until now. But why? Why is this of all things getting to Tony?

“Harry. Don’t use this as a reason to leave.”

“What?”

Tony actually _stutters_. “Last night- you- I found out about- I mean not _all of you_ \- but I _get_ you, I get that you’ve been through shit. And I didn’t know what to say yesterday, because. What do you say to that? What _can_ you say? Other than, you’re a hero- cause you _are_. But it’s been such a short time since your war, I know you- have stuff to deal with- but.” Tony shakes his head; he reminds her of her own inability to get her words out right the night before.”

“I think you’re amazing, Harry. And I know you’re considering leaving, because that’s who you _are_ , you think that’s protecting me, you’re so _good_ , deep to your core. When we first met you asked me to come with you; I guess this is me asking you to stay.” His eyes never leave hers. “ _Stay_ , Harry.”

Harry feels her heart threaten to leave her chest. It is pounding and so heavily filled with adoration, as if her arteries have been clogged with only positive emotions that overwhelm her.

She doesn’t know how she went through life without this sensation.

“I won’t leave.” She promises, as if the idle thought of packing her bags and leaving could _ever_ come to pass. She doesn’t think she could let him leave her either; Harry knows she’s incredibly selfish. And merciless.

She did kill her sister, after all.

Tony visibly deflates, hands still pressed against her cheeks like a life line, though with much less intensity than before. “Right. Good, since you’re meeting Rhodey next week and all, did I mention? Also, you’re in for some quality yelling time.”

Harry smiles, knowing Tony’s trying to make her happy.

How she _adores_ him.

“Oh?”

“Playing dumb, Potter. You’re telling me this whole time, we could have _been teleporting across continents_ , and you chose to _drive?_

Harry’s thoughts are instantly brightened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I havent read the books in TIME, did the loo scene happen in them?? I forget but I couldnt have this fic without it dont hate the player hate the game
> 
> LOVE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU
> 
> my mum: what you doing in quarantine
> 
> me: just planting some seeds
> 
> mum: oh you're gardening?
> 
> me: .........nooooooooooo


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey starts getting money to pay for tony and harrys brain transplant, even tho its not a thing. pray for rhodey  
> And then two minutes after he leaves harry and tony do dumb shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses for this chapter. I dont know what i was thinking
> 
> thank you for the patience my lovelies!!!! Sorry this took forever but i really hope you like it

Harry hums, head tilting to the side in some kind of consideration technique. “I don’t think this is a good idea. Or well thought out.”

But Tony’s bouncing on his heels now, which he hasn’t done since…actually scratch that, he does that all the time. Caffeine addict, see.

“It’s one of the best ideas I’ve had in a while, and that’s saying something. I don’t know if you know this, but I’m kind of a genius.”

“That is the consensus,” Harry shakes her head, amusement written all over every feature. “And yet, if people were to see what you have in mind, I doubt you would keep that certain title.”

Tony sniffs, raising his chin. “This is an amazing idea. Seriously, imagine Rhodey coming in the diner, being all ‘ _where you been, man_?’ Then _bam_! He sees it and like, faints or something.”

“I just think turning you into a mermaid would not be wise in covering my status as a wizard.”

Tony flaps a hand; this idea has really notched up his ego levels. He doubts Einstein had a magical friend. He knows, seeing as there are no photos of Einstein as a merman.

He’s checked. _Twice_.

“We can always lie. Be all, what are you talking about? And for the rest of his life he’ll live with the fact that for a brief second, he fantasised about his BFF as Ariel.”

Harry laughs, a sound very appealing to Tony’s ears.

“It’s truly a terrible idea. From what I’ve gathered, Rhodey is a smart man with an open mind.”

“How come _he_ gets to be a man? I’m man material, I’ll show you later.”

“Pervert.”

“Is that a blush? You’re totally blushing.”

“You know you ramble even more when you’re nervous?” Harry states, neglecting to acknowledge the fact that her cheeks are apple red. He’s pretty victorious about that, he won’t lie.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Harry quirks an eyebrow at that; he’s positive she has a Bullshit Detector stashed somewhere.

Tony sighs, shrugging to play it off. It’s no big deal.

“It’s nothing serious. After the, um, crash, I kind of pushed people away. Rhodey didn’t let me, he’s resilient like that. But. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him and been _happy_.”

Harry stares at him for a long moment, understanding fleeting in her gaze before her expression closes off.

“It was stupid. Forget it. I’m gonna take a shower, brush my pearly whites.” He makes for the door, embarrassment and shame weighing his stomach down. He’s such an _idiot_.

“Tony.” He immediately stops in his tracks, turning around. Harry looks hesitant, her arms folded around one another, before she speaks.

“When I lived with my aunt and uncle, they told me my parents had died in a car crash. My aunt implied drinking had been involved.” She can’t coat the undercurrents of anger, and if Tony spoke right now, he wouldn’t be able to either.

“It wasn’t true, I know that now, but I believed it for _years_. I suppose I’m telling you this, because, I know I’ll never fully understand what you’ve been through, with the crash I mean. But I will always be here if you want to talk about it with someone who even remotely gets it.”

A few weeks back, Tony would’ve said something witty, played it off. But this is _Harry_.

“Do you miss them?” He asks her softly, not wanting to know and yet needing to more than anything. Harry smiles them, comprehension fleeting in her guise.

“Of course. The ache becomes distant, but I always will.” She comes up to him and cradles his face, her thumbs sweeping the lines that have formed. “If Rhodey is as good a man as you say, he’ll understand that everyone can be vulnerable, that pushing people away was a coping mechanism. There’s nothing to be nervous about, yeah?”

Tony places his hands over Harry’s savouring the touch.

“Yeah. Yeah I can do this.”

\------------------------------

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were about to have a nervous breakdown.”

He doesn’t mean to be a prick, but he decides to ignore Harry’s statement; ringing in his ears have pretty much drowned out his hearing. If he were to speak, it would most likely come out as a shout, and that would attract attention he doesn’t want. His leg is vibrating from all the tapping, which would piss anyone and their dog off. But Harry’s a saint, apparently.

A hand finds his arm, giving him an encouraging squeeze. He’s practically moulded himself next to her at the booth of the diner; if a waiter came to take their order they would probably think they’re medically attached. But, who cares.

“It’ll be fine.”

“I know. Genius, remember?”

The hand on his arm slowly trails down to rest on his thigh, stopping his drumming. And Tony feels significantly less nervous, since all the blood that was chilling in his brain have planned to go on a trip to…lower regions.

But Rhodey’s a hero at heart; Tony hears the confident footsteps behind him that can only be labelled to one person.

“Yay,” Tony mutters, plopping an excited wet kiss on Harry’s cheek and rising up to greet his brother.

“Tony,” Rhodey sighs, a warm, almost _relieved_ smile on his face as he saunters towards the table. That’s always a good sign with his Chocolate Chip Cookie; he will _never_ smile if he doesn’t mean it.

Opposite end of the spectrum to Tony, honestly.

Tony’s immediately out of his chair, more earnest than he usually cares to show, and pretty much falls into Rhodey’s arms like a damsel in distress. He doesn’t realise the extent to which he missed him until this moment. It feels so damn _good_ being back with his brother.

“Can’t believe you’re back in one piece.” He looks Tony up and down, 100% scouting for injuries. Tony swears, if Rhodey even saw a paper cut he’d be lecturing his poor, victimised self while calling him an idiot.

“I’m the _poster boy_ for excellent life decision, Coffee Cake.”

Rhodey snorts, “yeah, the _before_ in the poster. I’d be the after, don’t even try to deny it, move on, it’s over.” His expression hardens. “You good, Tones?”

Knowing Rhodey, the complete change in topic isn’t a surprise. He also knows that he probably got that trait from Tony. Or Tony got it from him. Probably the latter, whatever.

Tony answers him with an honest nod; he hopes the sincerity comes across well, but he’s never been the best at showing his real feelings.

But he _must_ do, because Rhodey gives him the rarely given Rhodey Beam, dimples peaking from the corner of his mouth and eyes so very warm. They then lock with a gaze below Tony, and though they’re still warm, there’s a wall of reservation that’s been built in the last two seconds.

That’s his Rhodey. Soldier by day, bodyguard by lunch time breaks.

“If this asshole hasn’t spoken about me.” Rhodey brings his hand to meet Harry’s which she accepts with an easy grin. Tony now feels something else, something like pride.

When they met, Harry was reluctant to touch anyone.

He’s _so_ a mother hen. _They grow so fast_.

“Oh believe me, you’re _all_ he talks about.” Harry replies with faux irritation. He notes that Rhodey’s smile widens.

“Tony didn’t mention you were _British_.”

“No no no, I’ll handle the introductions here. Okay, _presenting_ , the light of my life, my knight in shining armour, the apple of my eye, my ride or die. And Rhodey, meet Harry. Oh!” He covers his hands over Harry’s ears, speaking in a loud stage whisper. “Don’t make pop culture references, she won’t understand any of them. It would be best not to upset her.” He removes his hands and ruffles her hair for good measure.

Harry turns to Rhodey, both of them sharing some sort of exasperated glance.

It’s only then that Tony realises that this may have been a terrible idea.

He sits with a premeditated huff.

“So he talks about me all the time, huh?” Rhodey says as he breezily sits down too, his voice pretty much dripping with satisfaction.

“So much so that I feel like a _fan_.” Harry teases, tapping her foot with Tony’s under the table. She’s _so_ obviously challenging him, and he’s always _loved_ winning.

“It’s all _lies_. I had to give her the run down two minutes before you showed up. Before that she totally thought your name was _Donald_. Or was it Grayson?”

Rhodey seems to have caught on to whatever they’re doing (even _he_ doesn’t really know most of the time.) He also seems to think it’s his life mission to…embarrass Tony to death? Damn, he hasn’t been gone _that_ long.

“I guess we’re at an impasse. Our _one of three_ phone calls,” he gives Tony a look that Tony knows is a ‘we’ll talk about that later’ promise. (Shit.) “Had Tony talking about you the _whole time_.”

 _No_.

“False,” Tony declares. “Untrue, invalid, etcetera. I _give_ and I _give_ ”-

“Oh, _Rhodey_.” Rhodey, the _traitor_ , imitates his voice. “She’s _so cool_ , Rhodey, she’s got an _air_ about her. _Harry this, Harry that_.”

“My friends are compulsive liars.” Tony announces, a bit louder than intended if the looks he’s getting from strangers by the booth are any indication.

“Compulsive liars aren’t _cool_ , Tony.” Harry nudges him with a sly grin. “Don’t contradict yourself.”

Rhodey laughs, head slightly tipped back. He points his finger at Harry. “I get it now,” his eyes less guarded than before.

Huh. Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.

\-------------------------------

Tony will never have any ideas again.

“So I’m by the gate, sobering up by the _minute_ while Tony’s _still_ got the pig in his hand. And he’s waxing some lyrical shit about how the cage was _already_ open when he got there, and how the animals gave him _no choice_. Then Tony, being a dumbass, tells the guy, ‘Oh, _didn’t you know_? They call me the _pig whisperer_.”

Harry’s shoulders are shaking in hysterics. Tony is regretting having friends.

 _They know too much_.

“And what did the farmer say?”

“He goes, ‘who’s they’? And what does the fucker of all fuckers do? Points at _my_ drunk ass.”

Tony puts a word in before Harry, he doesn’t know, _pisses_ herself or something.

“My _genius_ saved us from prison.”

“Your _genius_ got you doing community service and a restraining order.”

Even Tony can’t prevent the twitch of his lips. “Some people just can’t accept greatness.”

Rhodey looks up, as if the heavens are sympathising. His pecan pie is a capital Drama Queen.

“How he hasn’t died yet is beyond me.” He tells Harry, who genuinely nods her head at that, like it’s something she’s thought about too.

“He’s certainly a walking miracle.”

Like he said. He needs new friends.

“Pfft. Don’t challenge me, Potter.” He casually wraps his arm around her shoulder, ignoring the way Rhodey’s eyes snap to the movement with curiosity. “I could tell my toffee crunch here all your finest hours. If someone saw _half_ the shit you’ve done you’d have a reality tv show.”

“I’m not the one who helped a woman give birth,” Harry sings, because she’s a little shit.

Rhodey chokes on air. “That was a _real story_?”

“All my achievements are concrete, baby.” He’s still proud about that incident, even if the pregnant women ordering food on the left is giving him hives. He looks down at Harry’s pleased grin.

“I didn’t invite you here to stir the shit pot.”

Harry adopts an innocent mask. “I don’t know what on earth you mean.”

“You’re _evil_.”

“A terrible influence, one could say.”

“Not to mention bat shit crazy.”

“I must be. I stayed with you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah you did.” He knows he’s beaming, sees her beaming too, and yet he can’t pull away from her. They just stare at each other with ridiculously stupid grins on their faces.

She’s still here.

 _Yeah_. She must be crazy.

(He’s glad she is.)

“Hey”, they both snap their heads to look at Rhodey, who’s watching them with an odd guise that Tony can’t identify. “Worst hosts ever. Pay attention to your guest who refuses to third wheel,” he picks up his menu. “A burger sounds good. That diet they got me on, I’m getting extra fries.”

\--------------------------------

It’s one of the weirdest meals he’s ever had.

Rhodey and Harry exchange stories here and there, all about yours truly, but it slowly evolves into something different. Harry talks a bit about herself (albeit a really, _really_ censored version that leaves gaps filled with unknown information.) Rhodey gives her some details, though his job is strictly off limits. Bless his professional soul.

It’s nice though.

His two favourite people together, just talking. It’s like two worlds colliding, except Tony doesn’t mind the result.

He wonders if his mom would have liked Harry.

Actually, he doesn’t need to wonder. She’d adore her. It’s a bittersweet thought, yet the sweet is the majority in the ratio.

“So,” Rhodey starts, and Tony can see Rhodey going places in the military. His voice is that commanding, he’d have goose bumps if he didn’t know his Rhodey bean was secretly a cuddly teddy bear. “What’s the plan between you two now?”

Tony blinks. Considering Harry hasn’t said anything as well, he knows she’s had a similar reaction.

“Uh, well. We wanna continue?” He peers at Harry, so much he wants to say. “I know I want to.”

Harry stares back, opening her mouth and closing it with a snap. She flushes (aww) and nods determinedly, fiddling with her napkin.

Rhodey leans back on his chair, taking a sip of his beer. (He’s gone all out on the Fuck Military Diets, it’s a sight to see.) “Still going round the world then. Your staying this weekend though. Sort of got a surprise for you.”

“Oh?”

Rhodey flashes his teeth. “I’ll explain after I finish my food. Give me some time, man.”

“Right, well whenever you’re ready, I’ll be a maiden in the tower waiting for my handsome messenger to….yeah I’m done with that metaphor. I’m gonna go pee.”

It probably wasn’t the best plan, leaving them two together.

He comes back to see Rhodey and Harry in a discussion. He’d almost say it looks heated; Rhodey’s leaning forward with an unwaveringly stony counter. Harry meanwhile is sitting up straight, hands laced together. Her expression barely gives anything away, but Tony knows her well enough to see she looks. Almost pleased?

“You planning on hitching to Vegas? Leaving my poor innocent self to deal with the cheque? Cold hearted, the both of you.” He saunters to the table, even more confused when neither of them reacts to his presence. Hel _lo_? Anyone home?

“We were just clearing things up,” Rhodey replies, eyes never leaving Harry’s.

Harry nods respectfully. “I’m happy with how we settled it.”

A corner of Rhodey’s lip turns up. “Same here.”

Harry turns to Tony then (finally), a satisfied smile on her visage. “I’ll be off to the loo myself. Give you some time alone.” She flashes him a wink; Tony’s taken back to them being flushed down a toilet. And tries not to laugh with induced mania.

(They got flushed down a _fucking toilet_. Tony needs a diary ASAP.)

When Harry leaves, Tony turns to Rhodey with an accusing glare. “What did you say to her?”

Rhodey’s expression reveals nothing. “We had the chat.”

A beat.

“The _pardon of begging_?”

He sighs. “It’s really between us two, Tones. I’m not a dictionary, get your own information.”

“You’re too sassy for me, pain au chocolat.” His speech turns hard. “Is she upset?”

But nothing gets passed his BFF. If anything, Rhodey looks amused. “You coming after her honour? I knew this day would come.”

“Rhodey.”

“She’s _fine_ , Tones. Doesn’t seem like the type to break after a…stern talking to.” Tony glares at him, and once again it has no impact.

Ugh. First Patrick, now his Rhodeycake? Has he lost _all_ his intimidation? He’ll ask Harry later. 

“Question is, how are _you_?”

There’s a lot he wants to tell him, when he asks that. Tony wants to _scream_ from the top of his merry lungs everything that’s happened. Not bad screaming, but the kind where you need to say something at a high pitch because you just want to be heard.

So, Rhodey baby. Harry’s a witch. Like, the most famous of witches, and she lives in a world of magical beings. There was a war and she was the face of it because apparently no adult wanted to protect a _fucking teenager_ , and she lost friends and family to save said adults’ cowardly asses. Oh, but _that’s not it_ , because _bounty hunters_ are after her and one lucky little creep kidnapped both of us, and after Harry saved us with her magical powers she was tempted to run out the door and protect my unworthy self, but I told her not to. Because _I’m her man_ , because as much as I want to deny it, wherever she goes, there’s no way in _hell_ I’m not following.

But Tony will always try and be loyal to his friends. He’s zipping his mouth and saying fuck all.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Tony’s careful here; he knows Rhodey can shut down when he’s questioned about his job. He never wants to make him uncomfortable. Ever.

Rhodey stares at him unflinchingly, almost appraisingly. If he wasn’t Rhodey, Tony would be resorting to his media persona.

“I’m good. But I’m not the one who left town with a virtual stranger.” In a softer tone, “I’m not the one who lost people close to him.”

Tony feels his airwaves begin to clench shut. His hand grasps for something; it’s only when he feels nothing but the air does he realise his own source of comfort left to go to the bathroom.

“I’m better, Rhodey.” Once again, he tries to force his sincerity to come through. It’s pretty fucked, that he has to force honesty, but. What can you do.

“You seem better,” his best friend nods decidedly, lines on his forehead easing before Tony’s very eyes. “Lighter. I was wrong, you know. Turns out those months away were good for you.”

“I don’t think it was the road trip that helped.” Tony tells him, before his brain can keep up with the words and hold them down.

“I like her.” Rhodey announces in the silence that follows. It’s hard to not perk up at that.

“Of course you do. Who doesn’t, apart from creepy weirdos dressed in black, a couple of dark lords here and there. A woman in labour, some crabby receptionist…”

“She’s genuine.” Rhodey says firmly, ignoring Tony’s excellent points. Most likely for the best, though. “Treats you good, makes you smile. _Definitely_ in love with you.”

All Tony can do is gape.

 _What_.

Tony splutters after a while, finding himself suddenly dehydrated. “She’s not in _love_ with me.”

Rhodey is so amused he’s not even trying to mask it. _Asshole_.

“Okay. She’s not in love with you.” He shrugs carelessly.

“Why would you _say_ that?” The curiosity is so evident in his voice he’s legitimately cringing himself out.

“Nah, forget it, if you don’t believe it, it can’t be true. You’re the genius here, I’m just an innocent bystander.”

He came today meeting his friend. He’s leaving today with an enemy.

“You think she’s in love with me? Don’t be greedy, sugar plum, spill the gossip.”

“ _Woah_. We reunite for five minutes and you become the Spanish Inquisition, damn.”

“The Spanish Inquisition hunted down witches, you know.” He informs him, way too bright for such a morbid subject.

Rhodey’s teasing countenance morphs into raised eyebrows. “Got something to bring to the table?”

“Nah. Private joke with little old me.” He remembers how he got to this point. “Come on, be a dear and share your reasoning.”

Rhodey shrugs again, as if it’s too simple. “Just the way she looks at you. Not hard to figure it out.”

Tony can’t help but feel a flash of disappointment course through him. He’s a scientist first and foremost, he’s gotta take more than one variable into account. And anyone can _look_ the part, a sweep of the eyelashes doesn’t mean anything. He probably looks like that when food comes his way, or when he finishes the blue print for a prototype.

So, yeah. Disappointment. Not that he wants Harry to be in love with him. He doesn’t. Not at all. _Nope_.

Rhodey rolls his eyes at Tony’s most likely crestfallen expression (even though there’s nothing to be crestfallen _about_ , _Jesus_ ) and stares at him, pride flashing across his eyes.

“I know you love her- nope, keep your wise comment to yourself - _Tony_ , you look at her the same way she looks at you. So, however you’re feeling, I’m free of bullshit when I say she’s feeling that way too.”

His cheeks are blazing. It’s rare when someone leaves him struggling to find words; he can count on one hand the number of people that have had that affect over him.

 _Two of them_ , he tries not to think, _are dead_.

“You made the move yet?” Rhodey asks, then shakes his head soon after. “Nah, forget I asked. _Way_ too much sexual tension for you to have done anything.”

“I’ll have you know, we’ve done stuff!”

“Oh, yeah?”

“That’s right, get on my level Rhodeo.” Tony’s next words are instantly regretted, and for really good reason. “We’ve _held hands_.”

 _Death_. Death would be kinder.

Rhodey looks like he’s about to laugh but holds himself back, morphing into an expression that is so mock serious Tony’s reminded of every cartoon character _ever_.

“I see. With or without protection?”

He sniffs. “It’s not my fault you were never a pure soul.”

“Well call me when you manage to give her hand a _squeeze_ , I’ll be on the edge of my seat.”

He sometimes forgets how much of a _savage_ his platypus can be.

“Edge of your seat?” Both of them whip their chins up to see Harry standing before them, biting her lip in an adorable little grin.

Maybe Rhodey was right. He should, you know. Make a move?

“I was telling Tony over here,” Rhodey begins, Tony’s heart stops. “You should both invest in some gloves.”

Tony kicks him underneath the table.

“I got you something,” Rhodey continues airily, as if Tony’s kicks aren’t wicked as all hell. He takes his bag and brings out a meticulously wrapped present. It’s so Rhodey to be a perfectionist that Tony’s heart surges with fondness.

He’ll never know what he did to deserve the people surrounding him.

“Aww for me? My sweet guardian angel you shouldn’t have.”

Rhodey looks at him as if he’s daft. Which, occasionally accurate, but why now?

“Tones, I wouldn’t forget your birthday.”

Wait _what_?

“What?” Harry asks, gazing at Tony imploringly. “It’s your _birthday_?”

“What?” Tony turns to Rhodey. “It’s my _birthday_?”

“You haven’t checked the _date_?” Rhodey joins in, his tone laced with incredulity.

“Does it _look like_ I’ve checked the date?” He gestures to his face.

Rhodey huffs, muttering something like sounds like ‘dumbass’ and ‘chaotic’. “It’s your birthday in two weeks. Good to know you’re both on top of things. Don’t open the gift yet, I just didn’t want it thrown on a pile at your birthday party.”

“My _what_?”

Rhodey actually looks regretful at that, which, _good_ , he should be, before he hardens a glare at Poor Innocent Tony. “ _Yeah_ , think of this as payback for you deciding to haul ass for months, which, we still need to talk about. And don’t blame me, blame Summer, it was her idea.”

“ _Who_?” Comes Harry’s sharp response. Tony cringes, Rhodey looks like a point of his has just been proven.

“It’s a party, Saturday night. I’ll text you the details when you buy a _goddamn phone_ that works. And you’re going, _both of you_. Promise me, Tony.”

Discombobulated, all Tony can do is nod.

\---------------------------

“Okay, I have an even _better_ plan.”

Harry groans, “I am not turning you into a mermaid at a party.”

“Nope, nope we’re passed that now.” Tony’s grin is mischievous as hell, he knows, and he loves that Harry mirrors it right back at him.

“What are you thinking?”

Tony waits until the air is thick with suspense before he answers.

“I want long, curly hair.”

There’s a moment of silence, where Harry just breathes in, bemused. He doesn’t understand _why_ , but he’ll find out.

“Out of all the magical things.”

“It’s decided. And it’s my birthday coming up, which means this is my gift. Shower me with long hair, babe, I’m ready.” He positions himself in a starfish, bracing himself for the impact. When nothing happens, he looks at Harry. She’s watching him like he’s the weirdest person she’s ever met.

Touché.

“Har _ry_.”

She laughs, a sound so bright and easy he really does forget that her past is dark. And he knows people can overcome horrible things but seeing it in person is. Well, inspirational.

Rhodey’s right. He needs to make a move. And fast, in case she decides to, maybe elope? With someone she meets at the party.

Maybe the party isn’t a good idea. Actually, yeah, he knows it isn’t.

But for Rhodey. Always for Rhodey.

“Alright, I suppose I can try. Though I don’t have a spell book, it would perhaps be quite risky. I mean, I could fuck up, get spells confused. Accidentally turn you into a dog or something.”

“I would be on board with that. Provided I’m not a pug. Or a poodle. If I became a chihuahua I’d never talk to you again, just a heads up.”

Still, Harry looks reluctant. “I’m really not sure about this.”

Tony holds his hands up. “No pressure. But I, uh, believe in you. So if you _do_ do it, I’d be up in your face telling you I told you so. But no pressure.”

She straightens, fiddling with her wand. (It’s super cool, he won’t get too into it but she has a fucking _wand_ , he’s _swooning_.) “I was wrong. You are the worst possible influence anyone could imagine.”

Ah, success! Tony’s getting hyped up. “Make me Rapunzel, babe.”

\---------------------------

Tony sits back up with a stiff neck.

Honestly, using magic? Sounds like fun, sounds like every cult leader’s wet dream. Not that Tony’s a _cult leader_ , though there’s probably a few organisations dedicated in Tony’s name, he wouldn’t complain if he found that out. Creeped out as hell, but he wouldn’t take it down. Unless they, he doesn’t know, _sacrificed_ shit in his name? That would be a red flag for sure.

How did he get here?

Ah, yes. Using magic sounds awesome, but reality is something else. Tony’s palms press against his forehead in pain. Last thing he remembers was Harry hesitantly muttering a spell while he waited for his luscious locks to come into play. He would look _so good_ ; it’s a shame he wasn’t born in the sixties. He and Harry could have rented a caravan and _everything_.

But his neck is in pain and everything feels weird; it’s only when he audibly groans does he halt in his movement of sitting up. Because that does _not_ sound like his voice; this sounds higher pitched, girlish.

 _Girlish_.

What’s going _on_.

Tony looks around him for the sight of Harry, because he’s going on a limb here when he says the spell has fucked up. When he whips his head round, he notices hair flies passed him. He takes the hair, _his_ hair, well at least the spell _worked, fuck_ , and realises it’s the exact same colour as Harry’s ebony.

Oh no.

Tony uses his, his? Fingers to trace the face. He’s panicked now; he feels the slope of a nose he’s seen a few hundred _thousand_ times, the puffed lips, the shape of familiar eyebrows, the size of eyes that he knows are _huge_. He stands up, looks down at an outfit he saw on someone else today, and he’s not freaking out, he’s not, he’s _not_.

It’s only when he looks at the mirror that’s placed on the wall in front of him does he emit a squeal.

He looks just like Harry.

Oh fuck.

Oh _fuck_.

How.

 _How_?

“Tony?” He hears a British voice say, but it isn’t the usual husky feminine voice he’s come to look forward to hearing. It sounds like him.

“Harry dearest.” He says (or Harry says? What in the _actual_ ) “I think, maybe in hindsight, I should’ve just gotten extensions?”

\-------------------------

So apparently, instead of making Tony have long hair, Harry _accidentally_ made them switch bodies in _order_ for Tony to have long hair.

You just can’t make this stuff up.

“I…am the world’s biggest moron.” Harry (in Tony’s body, he’s not freaking out he’s not) mutters. “You’ve skipped denial, the first stage, so you’re off to a great start.” Since Tony doesn’t want to stress himself out to the point of death, he has decided to mentally cool down. Now, Tony’s going to categorise his concerns for his own mental well being.

First- He and Harry have gone all _Freaky Friday_ and decided to replace bodies.

Second- He is confused. Why is a part of him attracted to his own voice when Harry speaks with his vocal chords? Is this an ego thing? Is this a therapists wet dream? Has he always secretly envied the British accent?

Third- He wants, through no fault of his own, to examine this new body. Because this is Harry, and he’s admired her ass through the prison of jeans time and time again, and now he has an opportunity-

Four- He must stop himself from becoming a pervert.

Five- Seek therapy?

“I am so sorry, Tony.” Harry fills the silence, probably thinking this is the worst thing she’s ever done. “I don’t think I’ve ever done something so ridiculously stupid.”

“I never wanna hear an apology again, we’ve been through this.” Oh this is _so weird_. Harry has an American accent from his mouth, this is _nuts_. He decides to be a bit of an asshole.

“Wanker. Tosser. Bell end. Knobhead. Muggle.”

“Are you saying rude British words from my lips? Also, muggle isn’t an insult.” Harry places her (Tony’s) hands on her hips, something Tony rarely does, before slightly hunching over. “Actually, have at it. Least you can do.”

He doesn’t reply to that. This is so weird.

“I’m kind of digging this. I feel so skinny. Previous things were weighing me down.” Tony lunges and he feels like a feather, damn.

And then a sentence comes out of his mouth, one so horrendous, so _rancid_ , that for a second he contemplates embracing deaths arms to shield him from the entirety of this situation.

“Imagine if we had sex like this.”

There is a moment of silence in the room, but to Tony the moment feels like decades, centuries even. He takes the moment of silence to mourn any remnants of shame he once had.

“ _What_?”

Well. In for a penny, in for a life time of regret.

“I mean, it would be, uh, weird. You being the…thruster.”

Nothing is said. Tony reconsiders the definition of a disaster.

He decides to border on the defensive. “Can we share the blame?”

“The blame is on me.” Harry’s voice is hoarse, she coughs to ease her throat. His throat.

This is getting confusing.

But Tony’s mind is whirling with information and questions, and it is one single thought that makes his brain _stop_. It’s the icing on the cake.

“Harry. When’s your…time of the month?”

Harry’s eyes widen.

Oh.

_No._

“Time of the month?” Harry stares at him, like it’s not a valid question. Like Tony won’t have a heart attack of all the heart attacks if he…witnesses any trauma.

“You know what I’m talking about!”

“It was not as crass as I thought you’d make it be.” She bites the edge of her lip. “It’s in a few days.”

Tony sighs, minute relief taking over.

“But it can arrive earlier if stress is induced.”

The relief is gone.

“Harry!”

“I’m sorry, Tony! I will fix this, it shouldn’t be hard.” She scratches the top of her head (his head, semantics) sheepishly. Honestly, she seems more puzzled than scared, which he sees as a _great_ sign. Her eyes then harden when they stare at Tony.

“What are you doing?”

Tony and confusion are one for a second, before he glances down and realises, that, through no fault of his own, his palm is enfolded around his boob.

Harry’s boob.

Death.

Would be kinder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so remember when i said i have no excuses? I stand by my decisions fam  
> I'll have to go over this chapter n correct mistakes so dw if u see multiple errors that shit will be CLEANSED
> 
> Dw if u think this was TOO stupid of Harry lmao all will be revealed is all good
> 
> I love rhodey too much, idk i stan a voice of reason
> 
> Next chapter will hopefully be with u all shortly, can't leave you with this cliffy but i didn't want you to keep waiting :)
> 
> ANNNNNDDDD after this ark we only have a few more chapters of road trip gang which means we're heading towards the next ark which sets up their years before canon slaps these fools


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of bathroom breaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you know Spongebob came out in 1999?!! Here i was thinking it came out 1991 so im shook, it also means there has been an error in this fic!! Because it was completely logical before but STILL! Wild shit guys
> 
> Also im mixing it up this chapter- we have a little tony and harry POV because i HAD TO
> 
> once again thank you for your patience!! so much love to you all, as per usual you guys have been just the best

_Saturday night saw the exclusive event of the one and only Tony Stark’s birthday bash! None were disappointed at what was in store for them. According to inside sources, guests were each given a gift bag containing anything and everything you could want!_

_“I got Tiffany jewellery in mine,” an inside source reveals. When we ask about the host himself, there seems to be a lot to say._

_“It was weird.” Our source remarks, staring out of the window as his memories unfurl. “Stark’s clearly spent way too long in Europe. When he spoke his accent bounced from being American to British. He’s definitely doing a Madonna.”_

\----------------

All the freaking out and scratching heads in bafflement is more of a been there done that concept to Harry, and yet, she can’t help but feel confused. Because she might be foolhardy and considerably reckless, as her past suggests, but Harry would never, _ever_ , have done a spell towards Tony if she believed it to be dangerous.

So Harry does think and freak and scratch her head in bafflement; she might be somewhat of a mess, but this is if a mess unleashed the inside of an old used vacuum cleaner.

No; she had done this right. She would know: Hermione had bloody well taught her the damned thing! During one of Harry’s Moments where she found her hair particularly uncontrollable, the only reasonable thing for her to do was to cut it to meet her ears. She thought it had looked fine.

Hermione hadn’t.

The spell should have _worked_.

Right now, the only thing she suspects is that there must be something wrong with her magic. She doesn't fuck up this drastically, _ever_. 

“It was the collarbone.” Tony says. Harry’s confused at that. Because what?

“What?”

“I was touching your collarbone. Not…the boob.”

“…Alright.”

There is another silence, Harry having no clue what to say, other than _bullshit_.

“The spell was made for only seven hours at most.” Harry reasons aloud (a brilliant topic changer if she doesn’t say so herself), so very confused and yet no answers rest on the tip of her tongue. “It's most likely that it wears off in a few hours. The fact that I've never heard of a body swapping spell, it probably means it's nothing dangerous or permanent. If not…there’s a family I can go to for help.”

The Weasley’s would help. It would be a nerve racking reunion, Mrs Weasley would make her deaf, but they would help.

“Right.” Tony nods. “Okay, I can last a few hours. Won’t explode. Plus, I spend roughly five thousand billion hours in a lab without peeing. Few hours? Piece of cake. Unless this body decides it’s on their peri- I don’t wanna talk about it, I can’t, I’d die. It’d be the worst way to go.”

Tony’s rambling doesn’t last particularly long, however, considering there is a knock at the door. And a glimpse through the key hole reveals none other than James Rhodes.

“It’s Rhodey,” Harry hisses, scrunching her face up like used paper. His face. Shit. She has no idea what to do at this current moment in time. If Hermione could see her now…

It wouldn’t be pretty.

Ron would laugh hysterically.

“Crap.” Tony mutters, dragging a hand through his (her) hair. “Think Stark, think.”

“Tones, you in there?” Rhodey’s muffled voice calls through next door; Tony and Harry both turn to look at each other with horror.

“He wants us to go to the party!” Harry hisses. “This is a _disaster_.”

“Give him a good lie.”

“Like what?”

“That…. I don’t know!....You’re joining a nunnery!”

Harry stares at him. “A _nunnery_?”

Tony covers his face. Her face. She really fucked up, didn’t she?

“It was the first thing I thought of! I’m usually a great liar! I’d tell you to ask the media, but if they knew I was lying then it wouldn’t be lying. Wow, take a shot for each time I say lying.”

“Tony.” There are a few more knocks. “You’re not getting out of this. Open the door.”

“Can we use magic to, I don’t know, move the party tomorrow night? Okay, that’s actually a brilliant idea.”

“There seems to be something wrong with my magic,” Harry muses, more sedate than she thought she’d be about that. A quick inspection of her body comforts her though, seeing as she can still feel her magic as clear as day.

Oh thank Merlin.

“Wait hold on. Can I do magic?” Tony lifts his hand and grits his teeth, seeming to be waiting for something to happen.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m seeing if I’m a wizard.” He looks disappointed, then brightens up. “So… _my body_ can do magic?” Tony asks. He then appears very, very happy. “That’s awesome! Can we take a video of that before it wears off?”

“My magic appears to be malfunctioning, I’m not doing magic for the time”-

“Tony! I’m not playing around man, open this door.”

Tony groans, giving Harry a pitying look. “I don’t think there’s getting out of this.”

He opens the door, looking freaked. “I…I _promised_ Rhodey, Harry.”

Harry wants to tell him it's an awful idea, it's just the worst Tony. But it is her fault. And even if she protested, she knows his loyalty knows no bounds.

"Unlock the door, then."

This might just be her worst decision yet.

\---------------

“You ready?”

“Yeah, give me a minute.” It’s actually one of the most trying tasks ever, actually, getting ready without seeing. Tony uses one of his pants as a blindfold, because he is one _hundred_ per cent made from Gentleman Stork, obviously, and he won’t sneak a peek even if he was drunk or stoned or something.

When his head successfully finds the hole of the dress, his arms follow. Well, Harry’s arms, but that’s a whole (pun intended) other problem he’s too bemused to really get into. He takes off the blindfold victoriously, and he guesses his reward is his eyes meeting the mirror.

Harry’s stunning. He’s always known this, it’s not news. But.

The red dress she brought is clearly money well spent; it frames her hourglass figure, going just above the knees in waves. Tony doesn’t really know how to describe the details in the dress since it’s not like he went to fashion shows for the _collection_ , but he _does_ know, without a doubt, that Harry is _breath-taking_.

Ugh. He’s in way too deep.

It’s all the stars in his eyes mumbo jumbo that distracts him from initially seeing _it_. One glimpse and a double take turns his attention from the mirror to his arm- _Harry’s_ arm.

There is a thick, deep line that travels down Harry’s forearm. As if something had purposefully lodged itself in her skin and dragged itself down.

And then it gets worse.

There’s a circle engraved on his (her) arm, almost looking like a bottomless splinter, but Tony’s attention is snappily drawn when Tony unknowingly clenches his fist. Because his hand twinges in slight pain. Curiously, he inspects the problem, bringing the hand to his eyes to see it clearer.

Words are lazily written across in faded handwriting.

_I must not tell lies._

Tony feels ill.

How has he never noticed this before? It’s not like Harry never wears short sleeves, he’s seen her in tank tops, tube tops, he can go on with the tops and dresses and clothes that reveal her arms and hands and-

_It must be magic._

“You ready?” Harry calls from next door, halting Tony’s thought process of oh my god this is awful this isn’t right who would do this who would _dare_ -

“Coming.” Tony says. He takes a lingering glance at the- wounds- and places a soft kiss on where the marks are. It’s weird, he feels self-conscious doing it, and yet he can’t stop himself from the action, and knows he’d do it again.

Who would _dare_. 

\-----------------

“So, you done it yet?” Rhodey asks Harry as they’re waiting. She’s wearing Tony’s tux and looks absolutely dashing; it’s a shame she can’t linger in front of the mirror, or stare at Tony unabashedly.

“Done what?”

Rhodey’s look implies she needs to cut the bullshit. It’s bloody difficult to cut something she has no idea about.

“Want me to spell it out for you? Damn, never thought you were a chicken, Tony.”

“A confused chicken.”

It’s odd being around Rhodey, when he looks at her with such complete and utter trust. She has to remember that she is _Tony_ , and yet the way he’s looking at her reminds Harry of her own family back home.

Notably, it’s a different look from when they had first met. The last time they had chatted, Rhodey oozed warning in his eyes when he had bluntly told her there would be consequences if she ever hurt Tony.

Harry had been _delighted_.

“I’m going on a limb here and guessing the move making’s been at an all-time low.”

…. _What_.

“Move making.” She says distantly. And blimey, they’ve been letting what’s going on between them fester, haven’t they?

“You trying to be British? You both spend way too much time together. Not enough to have a believable accent though.”

Well, that’s just rude.

“My British accent is of top quality, thank you very much for your input.”

The door in the bathroom opens, Tony emerging in the cute red dress Harry had picked out.

“You look presentable.” Harry sighs in relief, then yelps as she feels the sharp stab of Rhodey’s elbow. He gives her an odd look, and then a softer one towards Tony. Well, Harry.

Oh.

“I mean you look pretty.” She amends. Also said in an American accent (how rude.) Rhodey rolls his eyes and compliments Harry too, which makes up for his slight against her lovely voice.

Tony nods sincerely. “I really do.” His gaze piercing, though his smile seems forced, and Harry doesn’t understand why. Perhaps it’s due to the _body swapping, get it together Potter._

Rhodey once again gives both of them an odd look. “You’re both weirdos. It’s official.”

\----------------

The party is huge.

Seriously, it’s _massive_. It’s overcompensating, except Tony no longer has a penis to overcompensate _for_ , so. But still.

“How did you set this up?” He asks Rhodey, a bit nerved of what his fluffy chihuahua can accomplish. Rhodey scoffs a bit at that, which is relieving. He’s too young to find out his BFF’s become _the Godfather_. Not that he wouldn’t _support_ it, it’s part of the friendship code, but they’d _definitely_ have words.

“Oh, I did the bare minimum. Girl called Summer suggested it to me. I suggested it to the Stark Industries PR- her name’s Cyndie, buy her something nice, Tony. Not chocolates though, she’s on a diet.”

He’s confused about that, because _Summer_? He must have it wrong. A question for another time- it’s not like he’s gonna question it with Harry next to him looking like she wants to say someone but probably shouldn’t.

 _I must not tell lies_.

“Tony.” His head whips up, and yet Rhodey’s attention is solely on Harry. Which makes sense, yeah. Still stings a bit. “I didn’t think the party would be this big. I asked for something low key.” He looks genuinely regretful. “I’m sorry, man.”

Harry smiles at him. “Don’t be. It’s a very _out of body_ experience.”

Tony snorts, some of his bad mood slowly evaporating.

_I must not tell lies._

Shaking his head (her head, okay that’s getting annoying) he takes Harry’s hand- oh it’s _so weird_ holding his own hand like this, what the hell, and moves forward to the red carpet in front of them.

“You good?” He asks her. She seems a bit dazed, watching the cameras flashing on the side-lines, the calling of names. (He’s not looking forward to any of it: the fake people, the fake sympathy the _fake fake fake_.)

Harry squeezes his hand reassuringly. Next to him, Rhodey glimpses at their entwined hands and looks like he’s refraining from laughing. He seems weirdly pleased, though.

They storm through the carpet like an anti climactic stampede, avoiding the cameras as much as possible. The three of them all heave a breath of relief when they’re inside, only to glance around in awe at the sheer size of it all over again.

He loses both Rhodey and Harry to the crowd five minutes in.

 _Shit_.

\---------------------

Hiding in the stalls is rather useless, but she has to get away for a while. Everyone latches themselves on _Tony Stark_ like a leech, as if they can suck fame from him and on to them from association. It’s sickening, it’s irritating, it’s motivating enough for Harry to politely excuse the suck ups and find somewhere to sit. And since the party’s only just begun, no one is drawn to the toilet.

She manages a good five minutes of peace before she hears voices.

“Those burgers were _disgusting_ ,” a boy- she’s heard him before, he’s one of the leeches if she isn’t mistaken- enters the bathroom, a few other footsteps following behind him. “Fucking _cheddar cheese_ , man. I thought parties were supposed to have food that was _edible_.”

The sound of laughter trails behind the complaint; Harry isn’t surprised to find that Tony’s not the only one people suck up to.

Another voice pipes up, leering. “What’d you expect? You know Stark, he was probably drunk when he planned the whole thing.”

“Ouch!” The Alpha of the little group laughs. “Damn, whiskey makes you a dick. You should probably use that when you break up with Cecilia.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Calm down man, it was a _joke_. It’s not like you can do better. Though I’d keep her away from Stark. Guy’s a leg spreader.”

“You gonna talk about Stark _all night_? Dude, you’re obsessed.”

“Yes, he certainly is.”

All heads turn to Harry, walking from the stall to the sink. She turns the tap on, washing her hands even though they’re not dirty, and smirks when she glances at the mirror: Tony Stark casually washing his hands with mixed expressions of horror behind him.

Not that she feels _casual_ about what’s just been said.

“Are you being nasty about me? At my own party, no less.”

The humour in the room is instantly and completely drained, as if a Dementor decided to make an unwanted appearance. The boys’ faces whiten, each one shuffling and looking anywhere else but her.

Harry quirks an eyebrow, savouring the moment when cruelty catches up with the ignorant.

“We were just”- one of the boys begins to speak, false cockiness injected into his tone.

“Bitching about the person you’ve been sucking up to all night?”

No one says anything.

“Is that not what happened?” She presses.

“We,” the supposed alpha of the group swallows, significantly more ruffled then he was a few seconds ago. “Weren’t talking about you. Come on man, loosen up.”

“You weren’t talking about me? I’m so sorry. If you have the time, can you introduce me to the _other_ Tony Stark?”

Once again, it is silent.

Harry would be enjoying this, if it weren’t for the scorn swelling within her.

“We might have, tripped over our words? We weren’t thinking.”

“How clumsy.”

Harry looks at all of them in independent stares, content when none of them can look her in the eye very long.

“Have a good night. Drive home safe.”

Even when she’s closed the door on her way out, she hears none of them say anything.

\------------------

Tony has had enough of being a girl.

Seriously, the gig’s not for him. He knows what it’s like to be ogled, but the amount of people that have glued their eyes to his chest is _insane_. And yes, he’s definitely stared at _many_ a cleavage in his time, but he never realised how irritating and gross it can get. Besides, he only did that to girls who by the end of the night were straddling his lap. Not that it was right of him to begin-

Ugh. He’s learning a valuable lesson, isn’t he?

Harry’s been swarmed away from him, which is truly a flat-out nightmare. Not only is his body disassociated from him which is creepy as hell, he won’t dig deeper on that mindset- but he’s lost Harry. And he doesn’t want to _brag_ or anything, but Harry is on par with him in acting like she knows what she’s doing. He kind of needs that little nudge forward at this current moment in time.

Because everyone here is a pervert. A progressively drunk pervert.

(Also, attacking people would get him kicked out. Damn, he needs his body back ASAP.)

So after he declares all males to have a stray eye, plus multiple females as a side note, he hides in the bathroom for a little bit. Schmoozing and boozing isn’t his thing right now. Besides, who says putting your head under a hair dryer isn’t fun? It beats staring at a certain arm and hand.

 _I must not tell lies_.

“Excuse me?” A voice pipes up. Tony realises that in his hassle to escape perverts, he’s gone into a ladies room.

Irony can be an old hag, if he’s putting everything out there.

Tony turns to the familiar voice, to see a girl next to him. He then does a double take, because that’s _Summer_.

Oh shit. He totally forgot about _Summer_.

“Su- um, have we met?”

Her eyes light up in interest. He can see why Madonna claims the British accent.

“No. I saw you coming in with Tony.”

He wants to make a quite frankly hilarious comment. But he also doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong end of the stick and decide to dislike Harry.

“Yep. Tony’s my friend.”

_My man._

Summer hums, giving her a piercing stare.

“Are you by any chance Summer Bain?” Tony asks, hating awkward silences. He should have said nothing, though. He’s not really in the mood to talk to Summer Bain.

“Tony’s spoken about me?” Her smirk widens. “He’s shown you pictures?”

Tony keeps the smile firmly in place. For some reason, he’s against whatever Summer’s implying. “Yeah, the group one in that MIT lab? You look so different without glasses.”

When her smirk falls, Tony counts that as a win.

“You know,” Summer begins, sounding slyer than he remembers. Though in all fairness, he was too star struck to really listen at how she phrased things. “Tony and I are…well, I don’t want to come across as a _bitch_ or anything, but Tony and I are an item.”

Um. _No_.

_What?_

“I beg your pardon?” Tony says carefully, because he may have had a huge crush on her before the whole- crash, whatever- but Summer had barely spoken to him. If anything, he’s surprised she knows he exists (yes him, _Tony Stark_ is saying this), let alone suggested a party for him. Oh and, apparently, they’re an _item_

Did he have amnesia? Nah, he’s fairly certain she’s taken a dive into Crazy Lake.

Summer hums again, something vicious flashing in the slope of her grin. “Who do you think planned this party?”

He doesn’t know… _Rhodey?_

Another thought slams into him. “Did you follow me to the bathroom?”

Summer shrugs like _it’s not weird._ “I waited outside. You took too long.”

“This is _very_ dramatic.” He observes.

Summer begins to wash her hands. (She didn’t even _pee_ , what is happening?) “I just wanted to tell you, before you’re led on by him. Believe me, you’re just a way to pass the time, a shiny new toy he picked up in Europe that he’ll get bored of in no time.”

Is she _well_?

He wants to clench his fists, but he can’t give her the satisfaction. Plus, any reminder of Harry’s hand doesn’t inspire any form of good will within him.

Summer doesn’t even know him. She knows _nothing_ about him, and absolute _nil_ about Harry. Fuck, What Would Harry Do?

Harry would say something, wouldn’t she? Something clever, if she even deigned to think the ass was worth her time.

It can’t be a repeat of last time, when they went to that Book Convention. How he said nothing when that horrible woman talked shit about his own fucking _mom_ , how he let that comment slide, how he felt disgusted within the confines of a bathroom stall.

No. It can’t be.

“Great! Thanks for the heads up, consider me floored. No. that’s a terrible word. Flabbergasted? I love that word, brings back old memories. Oh! You know what? How about we join Tony? He can properly introduce us, join us together and all that. We’ll camp somewhere, sing _kumbaya_ , eat some s’mores. I love s’mores, are there any at this party?”

Summer puts a lot of soap on her hands, scrubbing them together with slight maliciousness.

“I agreed to meet him after the party. Our relationship is private.”

_Who what where?_

“Can’t be that private, if you’re off telling random girls you stalked into a bathroom.”

Summer’s cheeks blaze, spreading to the tips of her ears. It’s funny: he used to think her blush was so god damn cute. It’s a shame she’s let him down. He looks at her cheeks now and feels close to nothing.

Damn, he really can’t rely on people these days.

“You had to know.”

“Nah. You just had to make sure I backed off, since apparently you decided Tony’s yours. You make him sound like someone who treats people badly to suit his own purposes. And yeah, maybe I-he’s slept around, maybe he’s had flings, done things he isn’t proud of. But to make him sound like a two dimensional prick who treats you like dirt…How’d you claim you’re an item, when from the looks of it, it seems like you don’t know him at all?”

He doesn’t wait for any snarky reply she sends his way. While she’s too busy contorting her face to look like he hasn’t affected her, he leaves the room, pride whipping through him like a salute.

It feels good.

\---------------

Harry would honestly rather have stayed in the bathroom and continued her verbal lashing at those arses rather than stay out in the open.

Everyone here either acts like Tony Stark is what comes out of a rainbow or pretends they don’t know him at all. It’s either rude or abysmally fake; at least in the Wizarding World people seemed genuinely impressed with Harry. There is none of that here.

Do they not realise how amazing Tony is? Do they not understand just how special he is and will be?

People swarm around her for the next couple of hours. It’s either mindless flattery or pitiful condolences.

 _Your father was a good man. We hope you can maintain his legacy. Your father was a legend walking. Your father was a pioneer_.

No one mentions his mother. It’s…it’s saddening.

Harry nods and smiles and laughs and wants to find Tony. There is a distraction however, when a hand slaps her back. Harry barely refrains from flinching, turning around to see who has no boundaries.

She’s greeted with the sight of an older man. This strikes her, since the party is either filled with young people or members of staff. After a subtle search regarding his clothes and visage, this man is neither.

“Tony,” the man says mirthfully. He has a soft fuzz of hair left on his scalp, sports a beard, and is tall enough to loom over both her and Tony’s height range.

No panicking, there are simple ways to find out who people are without them realising ignorance plays a key role.

“It’s been a while.” Harry begins slowly, painting a sunny smile on her face. Then, to be Tony: “You’ve aged.”

The man emits a booming, short sprout of laughter, a hand holding his chest comically. It’s incredibly fake, Harry notes. Her eyes discreetly rove round the party in search of Tony.

Well. Of _her_ , really.

She finds nothing. Where is he?

“You haven’t changed, have you?” The man asks, almost seeming pleased about that. When he sees the drink in her hand, his smile widens. “Enjoying the party?”

Who _is_ this?

She decides to cut to the chase. “What are you doing here?”

The man’s smile instantly dims, a face of mock betrayal taking over. “Can’t an old man come see his favourite nephew? Don’t worry kid, I was just dropping by.”

 _Nephew_?

 _Oh_! This is Tony’s _uncle_! Ah, yes, Tony mentioned. Merlin, what is his name? Oliver? Otis? Orlando? Ob-

 _Obie_.

 _Got it_.

“Especially when he hasn’t seen him in months,” Obie? _Obie_ , adds, sending him a look. It’s different to Rhodey’s slight anger and concern, though. Obie doesn’t seem to have lost much sleep over worrying, if she’s honest.

“You should have let me know you went to Europe, Tony. We’re a team, now more than ever.”

“I know, I’m sorry about that. It was a very sudden decision. Spontaneous.” She’s not completely sure how to act around Tony’s uncle. Considering that while she’s heard raves about Rhodey, any mentioning of Obie has almost seemed like a hesitant afterthought. It’s a topic of wondering.

Obie flaps a hand. “Forgive and forget, kid. After what you’ve been through…touring a continent is the least I would do. And hey, who said drinking wasn’t fun?”

The way he throws that comment so casually has a pit of anger festering in her stomach.

“Your father would be proud of you,” Obie declares, giving her another sharp pat on the back; if Harry was drinking just now, the impact of his hand would have sent the liquid flying from her mouth. “Not letting that whole accident bring you down. I admire you for that.”

Harry puts the cup she’s holding on a table nearby, in favour of not crinkling it with her clenched palm.

The way he’s so easily talking about something that he knows would upset anyone, especially so fresh after Tony’s pain…it’s vile. And subtly manipulative, if she thinks about it. The rubbing of salt onto a wound in an environment where alcohol is certainly not scarce, and something that played a huge role in Tony’s trauma…It’s immoral.

(Harry’s read between the lines. Tony never gets into a car with alcohol present.)

And this man deigns to call himself Tony’s uncle?

She would know a thing or two about bad uncles.

“I’m strong.” She tells Obie sincerely, once she’s found her words. “I will get through this. It’s who I am.”

Obie regards her for a long while. When he grins, she notices it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m glad. Howard would be pleased; the company needs you Tony. The brain of Stark Industries.”

“I know,” she informs him simply, smiling with one too many teeth. She doesn’t know when this became a silent fight; Harry hopes it’s only a mindset _she’s_ adopted during this conversation.

Obie places a hand on her shoulder, giving it a rough squeeze. Cameras are flashing all around the party; these two facts intertwine easily into Harry’s thoughts. It reminds her of Lockhart.

_Smile for the camera, darling. They love us._

“I should be going.” Obie says. “Your present’s on the pile. Have fun tonight, Tony.” He gives her one last sweeping, idle gaze before he turns to the exit, leaving Harry to exhale a breath she only now realises she’d been holding.

\---------------------

“Speech!” Some total _git_ shouts, probably pissed from all the drinks. It sends a domino effect, people all over begin to bellow until it’s a choir of “Speech! Speech!” All around, like she’s trapped in a dome of pressuring wankers. If Harry was in her own body, she’d bang her head against a wall.

Then again, if she was in her own body, she wouldn’t have to.

An arm tugs her (some random girl who eagerly smiles when the flashes of cameras snap her way) and leads Harry next to the mountainous cake, the centre of the stage. Cheers, catcalls and whistles bloom all over the room and echo, everyone in sight seems focused on her with rapt attention.

Well.

Harry looks all over in search of her own body, freaking out when she can’t even see a flash of her red dress. This is terrifying. It reminds her of the following weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts.

_Make a speech, Harry. How did it feel defeating You-Know-Who once and for all? What would your parents say about all of this?_

They would tell you to _do one_ , she had wanted to say.

Harry shakes out of her thoughts, because this is really not about her, this is about _Tony_. Tony, who deserves to be recognised as who he is: a _good man_. It is not her place to show people that, she knows. It’s just _irritating_ , the shit she’s heard tonight.

They don’t know him. None of them do.

“Thank you all for coming.” She begins confidently, trying now more than ever to sound American. “You all look great. Who’s having fun?”

There are cheers at that, it warms Harry up, gets her going.

“Look, I’m keeping this short since long speeches are for professors.” She actually gets laughs at that, but for the quality of the joke or the amount of fame Tony has, she won’t think about that too much. “Just….”

A sudden warmth emerges in her as she sees her own body in the audience- Tony’s soul as bright as the flashing of cameras. He gives her a wink, a soft, encouraging smile firmly sitting on his face. Her face. Whatever.

“You’re amazing.” She tells the audience, but her stare is fixedly on Tony. “I’m really glad you’re here. So glad.”

I’m so glad I met you.

She tilts her head, leering at her current enthusiastically clapping audience. “Shall we get really drunk?”

They seem to like that idea.

\------------------------

He doesn't manage to find Harry after the speech (the assumption is she’s being squeezed by members of the Kiss Tony Stark’s Ass Club- he's actually kind of glad he's not in his body tonight, though he'll _never_ tell Harry that) but he beams when he sees the faint outline of the one and only _Rhodey_. 

“Hey,” Rhodey greets. He looks freer in the atmosphere, his Rhodey is so hard working that it’s almost painful to watch. It’s also depressing how he’s looking at him. He doesn’t want the slight guardedness in his posture, he wants Rhodey to come at him with an embrace.

“You’re leaving?” He asks, the excellent banter forcibly contained in his brain. It’s still his brain, not Harry’s.

“Yeah. Leaving tomorrow for work. Tell Tony I’m seeing him for breakfast, though. I’ll drag his hungover ass out the door, I don’t care.”

“I’ll send him the message.” He grins.

Rhodey grins back, but it’s edged, as if there’s something he has to say.

“Spit it out, Rhodeykins,” he says without thinking. Ah, damn it.

Rhodey seems momentarily surprised, but then he laughs a deep open sound that Tony treasures. He’s always trying to make his chicken soup cackle. It’s an addiction.

“God, you two are gonna be hell on earth, that’s for sure.”

“You think I’m here in the future?”

Rhodey’s gaze is assessing. “Do you not?” His voice daring him to argue otherwise. Tony’s touched, and kind of scared for Hare Bare.

“Of course I want.” (He hopes she wants.)

“Good. You know, I told Tony to make a move.”

Tony tries to look shocked. “Oh!”

“But it can go both ways.”

His shock this time round is more genuine. “Oh.”

Rhodey’s never beaten around the bush, has he? “You guys have something going on. It’d be stupid to do nothing about it, right? Besides, what better day to do it then his birthday? I’m not trying to push anything. Just think about it.”

Tony nods, surprisingly in complete agreement.

Rhodey smiles easily at him. “It was nice to meet you, Harry. I’m seeing you again soon, don’t be a stranger.”

\--------------------

She finds Tony eventually, once most of the people have gone. It's been a long night, but it being just them in a room makes her feel as if nothing's really happened at all.

“So,” Harry says, walking over to him. It still feels so peculiar walking around in a different body. Especially a body she’s been admiring for months.

“So,” Tony echoes.

“It should wear off soon.” Is said to fill in the heavy beat.

“Aww. It’s gonna be weird, switching back. Finally got used to the whole no-penis display.”

Harry tries not to squirm at that, because if Harry’s bladder wasn’t alarmingly huge, she wouldn’t be able to look Tony in the eye.

There’s also an unpleasant weight in her movement. It’s bloody weird, that’s for sure.

“No one can accuse you of being unadaptable.”

“I should design chameleon armour. Just saying, imagine blending in so efficiently you’d overhear some _wild_ shit. Mafia dealings, you know? I could build a whole empire- actually that’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had.”

“It definitely says a lot about your other ideas.” Harry agrees. “I’ll save you time with the chameleon armour, though. I have an invisibility cloak somewhere in England.”

Tony stares. “…I’ll assume that makes you invisible, reading between the lines and all that. We need to get to my lab. _How_ have you not mentioned this before? I- it’s bad enough you haven’t shown me your broomstick- not a euphemism- I’m digressing, sorry, force of habit, I’m terrible at staying on track, seriously, look at my dissertation, the marker called it a ‘ _structured mess_ ’, swear to god.”

“What are you digressing about?” Harry asks, a tad stunted at Tony’s rambling coming from _her_ mouth. That and the American accent never fail to throw her off the loop.

“I talked to Rhodey,” he announces, his teasing grin fading into something softer. “He, well, he didn’t know it was _me,_ obviously, he just thought we’re a match made in heaven- anyway, he opened my eyes.”

Harry cocks her head. “Oh?”

Tony scratches the back of his head. (Her head- it doesn’t matter.) “Yeah.” He must see something in her expression, because he straightens his posture, looking resolute.

“Remember when we were running from Patrick, both slamming our body weight on those doors?” It’s a mood killer, but Harry nods.

“We had that whole confession thing- adorable by the way, looking back- _digressing_ , whoops. And then I said you were alright.”

Harry inclines her head, anticipating something unidentifiable.

“Well I said it cause I meant it. Because if we had to redo that whole admission spiel, I would have said travelling with you is just _awesome_. I used to think the universe didn’t like me very much- I mean, I know I shouldn’t think the universe is an entity with _feelings_ because _science_ \- but I can’t help it, I couldn’t help it. I’m starting to think maybe the universe has some cute agenda, because of _you_. Because if you’re here, well, my life is actually pretty fucking great. What I’m trying to say is that you were right. I’m totally your man, and if you wanted, you could be my girl. Even if you never fixed that air conditioner.”

Harry’s lips have parted, the smallest puffs of air coming out. She doesn’t know what to say to this, she doesn’t know how to tell him how she feels without repeating his speech. The tug in her chest is almost unbearably painful but she _welcomes_ it, lets it overpower her.

“I’ll fix the air conditioner,” is all she breathes out.

Harry’s never been good with words, case in point the last thing she just said. But she’s a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. It’s this belief that causes her to approach Tony, uncaring of the Body Situation, and presses her lips against his.

Tony’s surprised, she knows, as for the first second she doesn’t receive a response from him; he’s similar to that of a statue. It’s strange being in this body for this- Harry has to dip down on the impact, fully realising how very short she is for the first time- but she’s mentioned she doesn’t care about that, why should she start now?

Tony’s unresponsiveness doesn’t last long. He suddenly leans deeper into the kiss (Merlin she’s kissing _Tony_ ) and cradles her head closer to his, if that’s even possible. Harry’s brain short circuits at that and she loses herself into the moment; their lips practically moulded together in sweeping motions. Tony’s mouth parts open and so does Harry’s, she makes a delighted sound when their tongues meet and slam together almost daringly.

She then freezes, because her noise of approval sounded distinctly feminine.

When she opens her eyes, it’s to meet _Tony_ , Tony’s body Tony’s eyes Tony’s dazed grin as he stares down at her.

“Kind of depressing the spell wore off,” he says, his voice coming across as rather hoarse. His arms are wrapped around her firmly, and Harry is unsure when that happened. “Kissing myself was an ultimate fantasy of mine. Well hey, at least now I know I’m a fabulous kisser. You’re average I guess. Five out of ten.”

“Don’t be a git. Come back here.”

When he meets her lips again, Harry feels his smile against her own.

\--------------

_Probably the most interesting piece of information taken from Stark’s birthday bash happened at the glamorous red carpet put in place. Pictures have been snapped of Stark alongside friend James Rhodes, but pictures also reveal a girl next to Stark, who has yet to be identified._

_“They’re very close,” an inside scoop tells all. “I saw them in a room together dancing alone. Like, swaying while making out. They’re totally a thing.”_

_Does known Bachelor Tony Stark have a love interest in his life? Unfortunately, all snaps of the supposed love interest have been blurred, her face unseen. Who could this mystery girl be? Read next week’s column to find out who we suspect!_

C. Everhart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT WAS ABOUT TIME
> 
> I'm also probably gonna have to review this chapter, I can't be arsed rn but mehhhh
> 
> Lil update: I added some tags fam, PLANNING IN SESH so yh its a minor spoiler but dnaiowjnfoaiwhdbjx


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds out that shits gone down while she was on her gap year and tony decides to be a bad bitch which really doesnt work out for the poor fool
> 
> and liberties have been taken in terms of the Wizarding World because fanfiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo last chapter saw me have the BIGGEST SMILE ON THIS OL' FACE ur all cuties and I love you very dearly- yes if you didn't see the pattern each chapter note has me professing my undying love for all you gorgeous people YOU MAKE THIS FIC WHAT IT IS DAMN IT
> 
> phew, got that out the wayy
> 
> that being said this chapter is quite short its my little set up chapter where things ive planned are finally REVEALED YAY but to make up for it another chapter will come to u soon with more TONY cos no TONY is a TRAVESTY it is WRONG we live in a SOCIETY

The office on the fifth floor is covered in light, soothing colours. The wallpaper is drawn in beige, matching the plush chairs that are lavishly planted behind a light brown desk, facing a number of paintings of landscapes; Harry is especially drawn to the one of the sun setting, the orb lowering to the sea over and over again. She would feel comfortable, she’d sink into the chair if it weren’t for the throbbing tension that has settled on her shoulders since she set foot into the ministry once again.

Besides, waiting is never a peaceful task, especially when there are…more enjoyable things to do. Harry brings some of her hair to her neck, covering a few pesky marks, seeing how she won’t risk using magic to hide anything. Not when her magic is acting like a rebellious teenager.

In hindsight, having a meeting the day after a party is a truly terrible arrangement. But staring at her wand in the morning, her rebellious wand, solidified her desperate urge to find out what in Merlin’s name is going on. That and Tony going out to see Rhodey, meant she had some free time.

Circe, she sounds like a housewife. 

Fortunately, she doesn’t have to wait long: Harry hears the click of heels that quickly grow louder, the shoes stopping next to her and revealing someone Harry’s never met. When Harry tilts her head, she’s faced with a very tall, very pretty girl, who looks incredibly familiar and yet a stranger all at once.

“Diana Shacklebolt, Head of the Ministry’s PR,” the woman says, bringing her hand to meet Harry’s in a firm grip, which she shakes once and releases, moving to sit at her desk.

“Harry Potter,” she replies, more out of politeness than anything else. Harry is slightly thrown though, assessing Diana in a new light after the instant reveal of her surname. It’s easy to connect her to Kingsley in terms of appearance: they share the same nose, the same displeased down turn of lips. Even though she knows Kingsley doesn’t have a daughter, she’ll eat her right foot if she finds there’s no relation whatsoever.

“I know who you are,” Diana says bluntly, walking round with poise to sit in front of her desk. “I was told that the last time you came here, you caused quite a stir. It’s hence rather startling to see you back in the ministry. Especially considering you were supposed to return a few weeks ago to be questioned about your arrival with a muggle.”

Straight to the point, Harry’s liking her more by the minute. “I was surprised the ministry actually believed I’d return. It was a bit…gullible, no?”

Diana raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow, seemingly nonplussed. “Many people after the Battle of Hogwarts decided to volunteer in helping the affairs the ministry has had to deal with for the last few months. We are currently… _sussing out_ , those who are less than incompetent at their given roles. None are purposefully malicious, it will please you to note. Each employee has been doused with veritaserum during their applications here.”

“You also seem to have created new magical objects,” Harry says, abandoning all pretence of subtlety, and regretfully being a smidge unpleasant. “You can tell whose muggle just by looking at them, I noticed. And there’s a…what was it? A Prevention bracelet? That blocks people’s magic.”

Diana steeples her fingers together. “The Prevention is its given name. It was manufactured around the end of You-Know-Who’s control over the ministry. Supposedly, it was meant to be used as a torture tactic. Wizards do _love_ to feel some connection with their magic, a source of comfort during the _real_ torture, if you don’t mind my crass phrasing.”

Harry furrows her brows. “You’re not a wizard?”

“I’m a squib.” Diana says, the edge of her tone attached to something guarded, as if she is prepared to defend herself should the opportunity arise. “I was appointed two months ago, announced a trustworthy figure in ensuring the rehabilitation of both the Wizarding World and the Ministry itself.”

“By your…uncle?”

Diana nods firmly. “Indeed.”

There is a beat.

Harry decides to continue, “What of identifying muggles?”

“Ah. Well, that is a longer story.”

“I have time.” Harry’s not _lying_ when she says that, but she _really_ hopes this isn’t too long. There’s someone she would like to see, someone who just a few hours ago was all she could think about, all she could breathe in. All she _wanted_ to breathe in.

Harry needs to get a hold of herself, honestly.

“After the Final Battle,” Diana starts, carefully eyeing Harry, “When the Ministry was essentially healing from its usurpation, the authorities found salient information. It was discovered that there was disunity within You-Know-Who’s ranks. Some wizards found that purifying the World was taking too long. The impatience led to a group banding together, deciding to alert outside forces in order for them to help eradicate muggle borns quicker. This included muggle organisations, to help find any so-called criminal in hiding.”

Harry stares at her incredulously. “You’re saying in order to completely dominate the Wizarding World they used _muggle help_? That’s ridiculous.”

“Indeed. Objectively, it is understandable. Using outside help that can easily be overpowered. It was unsuccessful, however. The higher authorities under the Dark Lord’s regime found out soon enough, and the group was eliminated. And yet, the muggles they had used for aid were never revealed, the members of the group never telling even when, excuse my repetition, under extreme torture. Even now, we are still unaware of who has been told. It has become an issue of upmost importance to find out which muggle organisations know of magic. And considering the group were all horrendously murdered, it is a difficult task. Hence the creation of the necklace that identifies the muggles from the wizards, to see if any of them attempt to break into the Ministry.”

Harry firmly fits her hands into her lap, preventing her fingers from twitching manically.

She’ll let the Ministry deal with the Muggle Situation. It’s selfish yes, but Harry’s _tired._

And she didn’t come here to deal with that. She’s sitting on this terrifically comfortable chair for a whole other matter entirely.

“I came here because of Patrick,” Harry says finally, trying her best not to tap her fingers on the arm rests of the seat. “But you knew that.”

“I did.” Diana puffs a small breath from her lips, the only real sign since they’ve met that Diana can be flustered. “The PR for that debacle was pure _insanity_. All witnesses seeing you and the muggle were sworn to secrecy. Not to mention the trial took much longer than it should have, if you ask me. Kidnapping the Girl-Who-Lived isn’t exactly information that can easily be buried; it took days on end to ensure the information was never released. Don’t get me started on the extra influx of journalists attempting to find out anything of your whereabouts these past few months.”

“Yeah.” Harry bashfully scratches her head, unsure what to do. “Sorry about that.”

If anything, this just makes Diana’s expression even more pinched.

“So, did you find anything out? About Patrick?” Harry asks, when the silence has stretched out long enough. A year ago, this woman would have scared the pants off of Harry. Maybe a little bit now.

Harry _likes_ her.

Diana settles slightly back in her chair, probably her own form of a recline. “Veritaserum works _wonders_ , Miss Potter. We found out everything we needed to.”

Harry sits up straighter, feeling hastily cautious. She knows what she’s going to hear won’t be pleasant, and yet she sits greedily, waiting to gobble up all the information that follows.

“His name was revealed as Patrick Travers,” Diana tells her, never losing eye contact. “His family was a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, _incredibly_ prestigious pure-blooded family. Not all easy sailing for Mr Travers, however. He was thought to be a squib, something kept very hush hush until he miraculously received his Hogwarts letter at eleven. Unfortunately during his schooling he was very weak in witchcraft, becoming a topic of ridicule among his peers. Awarded an A in his OWLs, deemed average, especially considering his house sorting was Ravenclaw. Focused more on animals then education, seeming to not care much for the school if his teachers reports on him are anything to go by.”

The whole time Diana talks, Harry nods away, taking it all in. She ignores the pang of sympathy that swells in her gut, thinking instead of the fear she felt when she saw Tony lying there, motionless. Looking almost dea-

“After Hogwarts, Mr Travers toured the world, settling in America for a few years using his parents’ money, estranged as they were. Eventually, with his fathers’ connections, Mr Travers was able to obtain a job within the Ministry. Except, to everyone’s shock, including that of said fathers, he decided to become a low-end secretary within the low ranks of the Ministry. Worked there for a few years, until You-Know-Who seized power. He fell off the grid for a while, coming back shortly after the war, his family having all perished in unknown circumstances. And a few weeks ago he went missing, only to show up with one Harriet Potter, and a muggle whom he did not identify, having apparently kidnapped them both.”

Harry sits closer to the edge of her seat, something dangerous trying to seep through her. “Patrick knowing where to find me and working for the Ministry seem too intertwined to be a coincidence.”

Diana remains stone-faced. “You are correct in your deduction. Courtesy of Molly Weasley, a selected, _trustworthy_ group was given a blood tracker for you. Not only have we known where you are since you were asked to leave the United Kingdom, but we have had volunteers, mostly squibs of course, to keep a look out for you. Unfortunately, Mr Travers managed to discover the data.”

Harry freezes in her seat. The cold, bitter feeling of betrayal washes over her in powerful waves.

“ _What_?”

This time, Diana slightly squints instead of her usual closed off expressions beforehand, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Mrs Weasley had apparently thought it was the best decision for you. I also may have unintentionally embellished the facts; there were never people following you. The blood tracker told us you were travelling across the US, so we simply asked people you came into contact with to tell us if you were well, or in seeming danger. Action was only _once_ almost taken to protect you; when you were seemingly…manhandled, at a festival off the coast of Montana you went to a few months back. And even then, you certainly took care of it, if what the reports say are valid.”

 _A couple of boys come running over, their mouths agape_.

“That, and we were informed of a car breaking down, prior to your kidnapping. The Trell family that offered you shelter were not squibs, however. We were able to find out of your good health through…other measures,” she says, the words coming out cold and disassociated.

“You mean through _legilimency_ ,” Harry comments distantly, reeling at all of _this_.

How could Molly have _done this_?

How could _legilimency_ have been done so _casually_?

Diana just stares at her, almost daringly.

Harry on the other hand, finds her voice. “The Ministry was fine with violating peoples minds like that?” _Molly Trell_ , who had opened her _home_ up to her and Tony, who had cooked her _dinner_.

“It was not me who performed the vile act, nor did I command it to happen. I am simply the messenger.”

Harry rubs a hand down her face, her attempts to reign in her rage becoming more difficult by the minute, the numbness rapidly dissipating. “Clearly the blood tracker was pointless, not to mention the reason I was kidnapped in the _first place_.”

 _Why Tony was in fucking danger_.

“It was too short a time span for any worry to arise. There were also no witnesses to your capture. Had there been, I assure you, events would have played out very differently.”

“I want the tracker destroyed,” Harry snarls, the numbness having faded away into something that is foreign, something that is _vicious_. “It put me and To- my muggle friend in _danger_ , it is a disgusting violation that has benefitted no one except a _sociopath_. If I find out it hasn’t been destroyed in the next week I will come back and destroy it _for you_. Is that _understood_?”

The woman opposite her nods once, resolute. “Very well. I should also warn you that since you have been travelling the United States, MACUSA have made it clear of their desire to contact you”-

“It was very nice meeting you,” Harry finishes, her frustration leaking out of her as if a festering pore; she stands and marches out the room, before one last idle thought that has rested on the tip of tongue finally makes way to her lips.

“One last thing,” Harry turns just as she’s about to fully step out of the light office, that damned puzzling thought still niggling at the back of her mind. Diana for her part looks rather frazzled at her sudden change in moods, if the slight widening of her eyes is any indication.

“I attempted to use a spell the other day, and a completely different one was cast. Do you have any idea what that means?”

“Should I?”

Harry shrugs, her anger from what she’s learned still prominent in her posture. “You seem to know a whole lot.”

Diana peers at her thoughtfully, brushing an imaginary curl behind her ear. “If I had to make an educated guess, I would say that your wand is rebelling against you, Miss Potter. Though I would ask a professional on the matter. After all, I’m no wizard.”

Harry leaves the office with the sensation of ice spilling over her body, too much thrown at her in the ten minutes she was there for her to focus on anything of individual substance.

\-----------------------

Harry buys an owl, attaching a letter and sending it to where she knows is a boy, a boy with bright red hair and an easy, warm grin. She forces herself to concentrate on that grin while writing, actively pulling back her fury like reins on a horse.

 _Mrs. Weasley_.

Surprisingly, seeing the owl fly off into the distance doesn’t make her feel as if a weight has been taken along with the letter, too. Instead, it is as if the bird has taken nothing at all, the words on the letter an anchor that threatens to grab a hold of her and pull her down with it.

\-----------------------

It isn’t as if the news has _completely_ dampened her mood; there’s been something resembling a spring in her step (for many reasons, she knows, as her finger idly traces a prominent mark on her neck) since last night, but Harry understands that her positivity has been significantly damaged by the end of the day.

Just when she thinks her life has stabilised somewhat, new questions have slammed into her. She has no one to blame for that but herself, a part of her whines in regret. Out of all the days to hear bad news, and she chose the one where her mood was at her brightest since…well, she has no idea.

(Her own wand is rejecting her. She has a few suspicions of what that might mean, but action brings about symptoms including eradicating any delusions present. And Harry is content to adopt an ignorant mindset.)

(Patrick. Knowing about him now makes him real, makes him less of the two-dimensional creep she preferred to see him as. And in all her reigned rage, she never asked what happened to him. If he is alive. She wonders what her reaction would be if he wasn’t.)

( _Molly Weasley_.)

It’s these haunting thoughts that make her know that she’ll have what Tony refers to as a ‘Moody Judy Complex’. Harry doesn’t want to be a _Moody Judy_ , she’s been moody enough as it bloody well is.

Tomorrow then. Tomorrow she’ll be a…

 _Positive Patricia_.

But tomorrow is a while away, and Harry knows once she reaches the hotel room her and Tony are occupying, her day will collide into her. Harry doesn’t want Tony to deal with the fallout, he’s dealt with enough.

So it is therefore _a shock_ , when her rather downtrodden self opens the door to their hotel room and sees-

 _Roses_. Red roses are scattered all over the floor and the bed. On it lies Tony, a stemmed flower in between his teeth. “Good evening, Miss Potter.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry mutters, a small, uncontrollable smile settling on her face, her bad disposition rapidly moved to the side.

“I love it when you talk English. Say spiffing.”

“What is this?”

Tony smirks, muttering a slight curse when a thorn noticeably pokes his cheek. “I’m romancing you babe. Wooing, if you will. It’s working isn’t it? It’s totally working.”

“You’re absolutely mental.”

“I sense resentment, it’s understandable. Some people just hate being inferior to their partner.”

Harry comes forward to the bed, taking the flower from his mouth. “You cut yourself.” She softly inspects the cut with her thumb, pleased when she sees that it’ll heal quickly.

“You into that sort of thing? Kinky.”

Harry flicks his nose. Unable to restrain herself any longer, she leans in to kiss him; allowing herself to immerse herself in all and everything that is so Tony. She has to lean back away from it though, her guilt stirring at not informing Tony of her...day.

“Don’t you want to hear about my meeting?”

He grabs her flicking fingers and starts fiddling with them intently. It’s more endearing then it should be.

“Do you honestly _want_ to talk about it right now?"

Harry shakes her head, beginning to feel the slithering of foggy, untameable drowsiness entering her mind. Tony squeezes her fingers firmly.

“Neither do I, _seriously_. Had a long day myself: Rhodey went all _A Few Good Men_ on my slowly dying soul. Do you know how _hard_ it was to pretend I had spent the whole time at my party in my _own body_? Do you know I never thought I’d say a sentence like that _ever_? Plus I went to a florist and made the _magic_ happen in here, but _oh no_ \- It didn’t even _end_ there, I had to go out and buy Rhodey the right pair of latex gloves- inside joke right there, sorry Hot Stuff, I’ll explain later.”

Harry chuckles under her breath; even to her it comes across as exhausted.

“Blimey, it’s been a day.”

Tony’s whole attention lands on Harry at that; she feels the brunt of his intensity like an electric shock.

“You okay?”

Harry reclines backwards on the bed, letting out a surprised laugh when she feels a thorn jab into her side. “I’m fine. I reckon tomorrow it’ll all sort of, I don’t know- catch up?”

Tony plops himself next to her, tapping her lightly on the cheek. He sighs loudly.

“Tomorrow, I _guess_ I can wait until then. If only there was _some way_ to pass the time.” He gives her a mockingly innocent expression. “I guess we could…play charades?”

“Interesting idea,” Harry comments, deciding that she’s going to be a nasty bint because…well, it’s rather fun.

Nasty bint, yeah.

“It’s your birthday in a week, yeah? You can wait that long for a _game of charades_. Patience is a virtue,” she sings, adoring the way Tony’s mouth drops to the floor and _stays there_. His eyes begin to twinkle, something daring flashing in his guise.

“You’re on, Potter. I always win.”

She smiles at him challengingly, a cruel plan swirling in her mind. Harry gets up from her position, lifts her shirt up over her head and unbuckles her belt, letting her trousers crumple to the floor.

“Ha-wha- _whatcha doing_?” Tony breathes out, and Harry revels in the way his voice has gone an octave higher. His eyes are practically popping out- for a split-second Harry is actually scared he’s physically hurt. When he eyes her body, she has never seen him so bright red.

“Is that”-

“Do you like it? I’d vaguely heard of Superman before, so when I saw a comic book shop I couldn’t resist peeking- and well, I _know_ you’re a comic book fanatic.” Surprisingly, he has nothing to say to that. He just _sits there_.

Perhaps buying Superman boxer shorts was maybe too bold a decision? The matching bra was simply too enticing not to get.

“I like,” he gestures to where his eyes are glued to, “the boxers.”

“It’s adorable, I agree. Much comfier then regular underwear as well.” She leans into him, only snapping her head away when his lips attempt to snatch hers. “Anyways, good night.”

She turns the lamp next to her off, the room fully immersed in darkness. Harry hasn’t taken her shoes off yet, nor has she settled under the covers, but she doesn’t dare. It would ruin the moment.

“I hate you.” Tony rasps out in the silence that follows, lying down to where Harry is; she has to bite a grin when her body is pulled against his, his lips pressing down against a spot on her neck that she knows from last night is quickly becoming one of his favourite past times. “I also have a cucumber in my pocket. In case I get hungry, you know me, always got a trick up my sleeve. Or up my pocket, whatever.”

It’s becoming…rather terrifying. How much she relies on him to smile.

It is certainly worrying. Yet Harry has so much to stress about; Tony will never be one of them.

Her eyes flutter from the heavy breathing in her ear, turning around and pressing her lips to Tony’s freely, relentlessly, uncontrollably. Throughout she feels the rake of his fingernails over her head and gains goosebumps at the gentle circling Tony’s fingers are drawing on her arm, her arm where only she knows lies an ugly, thick scar.

 _Tomorrow_. Tomorrow, there will be some things to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEE?!! Short shit fam, but plot had to happen i know it hurts me too
> 
> LIL HEADS UP- i sadly, for the life of me, cannot write smut, yes its destroyed me saying this i dont know how i get up in the morning, so this fic wont exactly have sexy scenes and yes i will spend the rest of my life redeeming myself  
> BUT if any of u want some smut let me know n ill try my best to do a one shot or a bunch of one shots of sexy times, seeing as these two are gonna be more like rabbits then Patrick ever was just a heads up (mind the pun)
> 
> ALSO if any of u saw Ive updated some tags which i should have done a while ago- this is gonna be a long nasty ass fic like this was supposed to be SHORT. Like a Siren HA ok i'll go home


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there are people who piss other people off, and then there are unethical teaching skills to get rid of anger from the people who have pissed the people off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Comes out of hiding* Hi!
> 
> Sorry it's been so long! It all got hectic but am back now for a cute lil chapter which i hope u like, i think it's one of my faves
> 
> as for the smut youve convinced me lmao you're all horny bastards and i love u for it (so expect it in a few chapters when my smut practicing is labelled good enough to put on a website) :)
> 
> TIME TO MENTION I LOVE U ALL

“So what you’re saying,” Tony starts, settling for placing a fist on his hands to look neutral, “Is that your best friends mom put a tracker on you before you left Britain, gave it to your Wizard Government, and followed you around our tour? I don’t even know why I’m asking. That is literally exactly what happened.”

Yes, there are other things that should be What the Fucked, like the fact that non-wizard organisations know about _magic, for instance_ , and yet the one that _especially_ reaches out to him, is the epic tale of _betrayal_.

Harry hums absentmindedly, lounging back in her chair opposite him. It’s weird, her not sitting next to him on all occasions, but Harry needs her own space and he gets that. What he doesn’t get, is a certain woman called _Molly Weasley_.

Who _does_ that?

Who tracks someone that should be _family_ to them, and gives that information to an _untrustworthy government_?

But it’s not like Tony feels he can _say_ something; relatives are a sore subject. He _knows_ : Rhodey can bitch about his mom for _years_ on end, but when Tony makes one _teeny tiny_ comment on how the pie she made on Thanksgiving was just a _smidge_ dry, its World War Three. That and his own experience with people talking about his mom…it’s never been a subject that has gone over particularly well.

So, to conclude: Tony doesn’t know how to externally respond to all of this information.

( _Internally_ is a whole other matter.)

“Apparently. I sent a letter to Ron, telling him about the whole…thing. Of what she did. Other than that, I’m not really sure what to do.” Her expression remains stoic, her slouch slightly back on her seat just looks forced and stiff. Tony likes to think he has some sort of read on Harry, some vague idea of the direction her thoughts pave to. And if the harsh outline of her posture is any indication, he knows that, without a doubt, there is an overload of suppressed anger.

He gets that.

“Say something,” she says, when the silence has stretched out, which was also bothering Tony. Yet, this debacle is making him want to act like a politician. Please both sides and all that.

“So, uh,” he mumbles carefully, scratching his ear so his hands don’t clench into an unwanted position. “She was the reason we got taken? Well, she didn’t _kidnap_ us, that would be a different matter in terms of her being a legitimate criminal, but she pretty much led him to that lake?”

“And hurt you.” Harry states, but it comes out as more of a snap. It seems they’re both angry on each other’s behalf, but that’s just not the thing anyone wants to share. Anger at a potential death.

“She hurt you, too. Could have killed you. It’s _insane_ , how far helicopter parenting can go.”

Well. It’s not like he was ever going to be a politician.

Harry has the same expression she’s had all morning, looking all dark and gloomy; it’s a massive contrast against the multi-coloured walls the diner has decided to go with. She then leans forward, her hands pressed against the dip of the table. Like she’s about to stand up and bellow for Tony’s honour, it’s super appealing. “How do you feel? About this all?”

Tony levels her with a strong look. “This is _way_ more about you then it is me right now, Harry. That’s the highest level of a privacy breach. A _tracker_? She’s not even your legal guardian. Is she?”

Harry sighs, her exhale coming out slightly ragged. “No, she’s not. You’re right. I just- I’m…procrastinating, I suppose.”

“You don’t have to be a genius to tell you’re pissed off. _Seriously_. You could be in an advertising for anger management, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah,” she huffs, still rigid. It makes Tony ache. “I’m not so great with ongoing emotions. I’m not sure how to handle this.” She immediately goes bright red, as if being so blatant about her own emotional ride is _embarrassing_. Tony knows he’s not one to talk on the issue of sharing is caring, and he knows that if someone tries to get him to sit in a circle he’ll tell them to fuck off. Except, for all his problems, Tony has the beginnings of a mild solution to this clusterfuck of a morning. Before he can open his mouth however, an unfamiliar voice breaks through their conversation.

“Hi! Are you Tony Stark?” Ice floods through his veins, surprise also leaking through at someone _actually recognising him_. (Months of travelling without recognition have done _wonders_ to his ego, it’s actually alarming.) He turns to see a girl around his age, blonde highlights and bright blue make up resting on her eyelids.

“Uh, yeah? I mean, yeah.”

“I’m Tracey,” she beams, her hip jutting out in apparent confidence. “I’m your _biggest fan_.”

“It’s nice to meet my _biggest fan_ , I’ve been looking for you,” his stage smirk falls in place easily, the fake curl of his lips feeling as if burning his skin in shame. All he wants is to talk to Harry about this _Molly Weasley_.

She giggles brightly, curling a strand of her hair as she gazes prettily at him. “Well I’m here. You found me.”

“Excuse me,” Harry voice chimes in; Tony looks across to Harry, who’s watching Blonde Highlights with a saccharine grin. “I appreciate you being a fan, but we were having a conversation.” She nods at that and picks up her menu, even though ten minutes ago she told the waitress _just an earl grey, please_.

Blonde Highlights has the _audacity_ to not even glance her way, solely staring at Tony. Which is unnerving, because there’s a _lot_ to look at in this multi-coloured space. “Mr Stark doesn’t mind, do you?”

Fuck _Sake_.

“ _I_ mind,” Harry comments, lifting a finger. It seems the anger she’s trying to bury deep is slowly unleashing; Tony does _not_ want Blonde Highlights to be turned into a mouse, _Roald Dahl_ style.

Wait. No, he _definitely_ wants to see someone turn into a mouse.

But Wizard laws and _blah blah blah_.

“But _Mr Stark_ hasn’t complained-”

“Consider this me complaining _on his behalf_.”

“Oh, Harry, look at the time! We have to go, things to do, people to see, a life to lead. Cha cha.” He gets up, thankful that Blonde Highlights hadn’t decided to crash the party while Tony was inhaling his waffles. Harry’s eager to leave too, flashing her newfound rival a grin that resembles something smug.

And she says _he’s_ competitive.

“Oh,” the girl says with embellished disappointment. “How about your number before you go?”

“I’m sort of, off the market.” He tells her with a roguish grin, excitement pooling in his chest when he realises, it’s true. The excitement only grows when he leaves the diner with Harry, who shuffles her arm in a lock with his in her own way of showing victory.

\------------------

“Where are you taking me?” Harry asks in the cab, the excess of annoyance from Blonde Highlights beginning to fade, though her possessive grip on his thigh tells Tony another story.

“You literally heard me tell the cab driver the directions.”

“No, I didn’t. You showed the driver the map and waved a hand in my _face_ so I couldn’t see where you pointed.”

“It’s not my fault your eyesight is poor. And hey, we can’t become one of those boring couples, we gotta keep the mystery _alive_.”

There’s a pause, where he builds up his courage.

“Do you- you wearing the, uh…the Superman bra?”

Harry suddenly decides to look out the window, the corners of her lips pulled up.

“I _knew_ it.”

Harry barks out a laugh, which lasts for a total of 0.5 seconds. It’s like she remembers something, because her stoic expression firmly sits back in place. Just like that, the procrastination abandons him.

Molly _fucking_ Weasley.

How can a woman who calls herself a mother _do_ something like that? Not _once_ has he ever had the urge to follow someone because he worries. Take his Rhodey-bear. He doesn’t put a tracker on him whenever he leaves, because:

  * A.) It’s the capital Violation of Privacy.



  * B.) Rhodey would find out, because he’s _Rhodey_. And if his stick of butter gave him hell for an on the cuff comment of his mom’s _pie_ ( _not_ a euphemism), then a tracker would involve permanent hearing aid.



  * C.) He was raised differently. Neglect was much more preferable then attachment.



He means, he can see why someone would want to do it, strictly speaking it keeps tabs on those in danger, but then again, it attracts people like Patrick. Who apparently, was a hide in the corner at parties kind of guy, who inherited wealth and good fortune.

He supposes, everyone can take a direction of their choosing.

“Did you ever ask who Patrick was working for? Didn’t he mention a woman or something?”

Harry’s eyes drift shut for a second, before her jaw clenches widely. “I didn’t even remember to ask that.”

“Meh, no harm no foul.”

“Harm and foul. I’ll speak to Diana about it as soon as our trip is over.” Harry stares into the distance for a good while after that.

Until she breaks out a thought, that makes Tony turn.

“Ever since I left Scotland,” she comments, her gaze far away, too far away. “I’ve lost all sense of reason. I don’t know how to handle things.”

Tony doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t know if there’s anything he _can_ say to that. He never met Harry before she left. He never knew Harry before the war.

So, he responds in the fashion that is typical Tony Stark. He gets her attention with a tap on the shoulder, tapping his lips and overexaggerating a shrug.

“Short term solution to your issues’ right here, _Seneca_.”

Harry fondly and ,seemingly out of her control, rolls her eyes (he didn’t even _clock_ that someone could roll their eyes _fondly_ , but, what does he know) and raises her eyebrows dubiously.

“I dunno. They look kind of _dry_.”

“You know that’s just not true, the amount of lip balm I slap on these babies is almost comical. _Plu_ s it makes my lips irresistible, just quoting the truth, nothing wrong with that.”

“Well, clearly that’s just not true.”

“If you’re gonna be like this I might as well go back to where my _biggest fan_ was. Ooh, or better yet, I’ll go ahead and give _Abby_ a call”-

Harry practically _smooshes_ her lips against his, the peak of her apparent territorial-ness put in full place, but is amazing, arousing, enchanting, all the good words and then some. He deepens the kiss, opening his mouth with keen ease and feeling delight when Harry imitates the action. Either she’s a claimer, or she wants him to shush.

Can’t it be both?

See, the thing about Harry: one second the girl has the whole ‘virgin sacrifice to Satan’ charisma, the next thing you know _, bam_.

 _Superman bra_.

It means she’s very obviously the most unpredictable person Tony’s ever met. And it’s _glorious_. So yeah, he can shut up for a few. Be a land she can claim victory over. He’s good with that.

“No.” A booming voice goes. Both Harry and Tony lean back from one another, staring at the man behind the wheel of the car.

“What?”

“No.” The driver says again, which meant he was the one who _rudely_ interrupted his Happy Times; his gaze is sharply fixed on _him_ in particular from the rear-view mirror. Which is just _so_ insulting, it wasn’t like Harry’s tongue wasn’t getting involved, he means _really_ , she was _centre stage_. “I’m not having this in my cab. Sit still or find a new ride.”

“I mean, it wasn’t like we weren’t sitting still,” Tony retorts, subtly placing his hand on Harry’s knee, “Is that the deal? You don’t want to have the fear of missing the show? Distraction from driving and all?”

“Unbelievable,” Harry murmurs to herself, and Tony’s perceptive enough to realise it’s not aimed at the guy behind the wheel.

“You want me to stop the car? I’ll stop the car, try saying something like that again.”

“What if I pay you five hundred dollars?”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Harry rub a hand over her face.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I driving you to a _bank_ you can rob?”

Why does no one know who he is? This _never_ happened before Harry.

And he doesn’t want to be this person…but he doesn’t happen to know who he is, does he?

“Do you _not know_ who”-

“Don’t you dare,” Harry cringes, “If you say that, you will sound _exactly_ like my ex-boyfriend.”

Tony gapes.

“You’re saying I can’t say that ever again?” He’s not necessarily ever _said it_ , but he likes the…freedom? Of saying it?

Ugh.

“You can say it,” Harry tells him with undercurrents of amusement. “You’ll just sound like Draco.”

 _Ugh_.

“Sorry, what was that? Drew? _Derek_?”

“We’re here.” The driver says as the vehicle comes to a halt, annoyance seeping from his tone. “Get out.”

“Well well well,” Tony claps, feeling irritatingly obliged to only go and want to leave a _tip,_ “Aren’t you just the happiest person I’ve ever met. What are you, one of Snow White’s seven dwarves?”

“Why are we at a junkyard?” Harry asks.

“Why did you wanna _drive_ to a junkyard?” The driver asks with honest to god _curiosity_.

Too. Many. Questions.

Kudos to the driver, though. They’ve gotten there in _record time_.

“Here you go,” Harry takes some money from her cute little red wallet, handing it to the Sassy Driver. She looks at the ID next to the side mirror and gives him a sheepish smile. “Have a good day, Mr Hogan.”

Tony and Mr Hogan both look at each other and let out a simultaneous huff.

\---------------

“You really need to start explaining.”

After jumping over the fence, it’s _pretty_ crystal clear that the air of mystery is well and truly gone, and to keep up the charade of not explaining anything would just be really creepy. So, he stops abruptly, and looks at her with all the seriousness he can muster.

“Okay, so, I’m not a serial killer.”

Harry scrunches her eyebrows together. “You brought me to an abandoned junkyard to tell me you haven’t _killed people_? Ah, I see. I’m your first.”

“Witty, ten out of ten on the comedic timing. I used to come here when I was drunk with some people who thought it was all _edgy_. I guess it is, perfect for the goths to write their poetry in this _gorgeous_ landscape. Anyway, I saw something _awesome_ here ages ago, but I couldn’t bring it home to work on because then my home life would _really_ go tits up. And I’m digressing. Follow me!”

He takes her hand, and surprisingly, always surprisingly, Harry complies, giving his hand a squeeze.

Ugh. All he can hear at that is Rhodey’s voice. Though his face when Tony gave _him_ the set of plastic gloves will forever be ingrained in his mind.

Ha! _Sucker_.

“It smells here. If I see a scuttle of rats, I’m off.”

“ _Snob_.”

Harry lets out a small shudder, “Nah. Just hate rats, is all.”

He gives her hand a gentle rub with his thumb. He knows there’s more to it, he gets that.

“You really gave that driver sass.” She comments idly, exasperation seemingly at war with humour.

“He _ruined_ tongue on tongue time, don’t think that won’t pop up again later. I blame you though, Miss ‘My Magic is Acting Up.’ Can’t even teleport us to a dump like this, _piss poor_ on your part.”

“Maybe I’ll try and teleport again,” Harry comments cheekily, “Seeing as you can’t go anywhere without trouble following you.”

“True. How long have we been travelling together, babe?”

He receives a flick to the nose at that. Doesn’t matter however, seeing as he finds just what he’s been looking for when he turns a corner to reunite with…

The _car_!

When he stops, Harry halts in her track, and stares in confusion.

“What?”

He dramatically gestures at the car and does it again when Harry just looks nonplussed. He waits for a response that never comes, it’s all very shameful. “You don’t _get it_?”

“Not even slightly,” Harry says, peering at the vehicle as if it holds all the answers. Which, it kind of does?

“You’ve got a lot of anger, I’ve got some brewing in me, probably, but not my show today.” Definitely. “No one’s gonna care if we smash a car into pieces. Get it now?”

When comprehension forms in her gaze, she gapes at Tony incredulously.

“You took me to an abandoned car to smash? The _eccentricity_.”

“I prefer the term _therapeutic_ please and thank you.” He sees something resembling a crane in a garbage pile next to him and picks it up, flipping it in his hand for good measure while decidedly not thinking about any disease that could bring about. “I’ve totally seen this before, the whole getting rid of rage spiel. And baby, you got a lot of things you need to get out.”

Harry’s eyes land on the crane, and then back to him, annoying dancing across her features.

“This is a terrible idea! What’s your IQ?”

“Never knock it until you try it. I’ll even ignore the questioning on my IQ, because that was clearly coming from a place of hate.”

Harry reluctantly takes the crane from his now dirty palms ( _ew_ ) and pulls a face. (Less ew.) “You would make a very unconventional therapist.”

“So they say,” he shrugs.

“Who’s they?”

“ _You_.”

Harry lets out a laugh at that, which fades in record time as she brings up the crane in a _fuck it_ kinda attitude, and in one swift motion, brings the crane to the window in a heroic swoop.

The glass splinters everywhere around, falling to the ground like snow. It’s _beautiful_.

Harry gasps, apparently unused to the sensation of destroying something.

“That’s my girl! Feel good?”

“No,” Harry says, bringing back the crane to the car, her face slowly morphing from her stoic persona, to the now sneer dripping from her features.

“I’m angry, yes,” she says, beginning to relax her position around the bar. “Extremely. Molly’s just the bloody icing on the _damned cake_.”

Tony doesn’t say anything. He watches. He observes. He listens. Even if he wants to come over to her.

“How could she _do_ that?” She clangs the crane again and again, her speech increasingly louder. “How could she have done that to me,” another clang. “To _you_?”

_Clang._

“She had the fucking _nerve_.”

 _Clang_.

“The lack of _respect_.”

 _Clang_.

“I thought of her as _family_!”

 _Clang_.

“I still _fucking do_!”

 _Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang_.

“And she threw that in my face! Like she never cared of what _I wanted_.” Harry finally drops the crane on the ground, something lost in her eyes. She takes in the car in front of her, looking like a scrunched-up piece of paper, and gazes at the crane in something akin to wonder.

She turns to face Tony, who’s watching her with something that feels like trepidation.

“Maybe it’s my fault. I-I feel like the more I live, the more I lose.”

And It’s this that _surges_ Tony closer to her, his speed rapid and expression most likely desperate as he pulls her close to him and cups her face with distress.

“You’re not losing anyone. _Hey_.” He says forcefully when Harry tries to look away. “The more you live the more you _save_ , okay? You fought in a war and _won_. That’s saved more people then you’ll _ever_ know. What that woman did to you was _wrong_. What Patrick did was wrong. Don’t switch this to make yourself look like the villain. You’re _allowed_ to be angry, you’re allowed to place blame on someone whose actual fault it was. People have been putting pressure on you for years, haven’t they? To make you feel responsibility for things that our out of your control.”

He waits until Harry nods, her breaths coming out shakily, but her eyes trained on his, as if in a daze.

“What if I’ve done things that have ruined people?” She asks him, practically beseeching.

“Then think of the things you’ve done that have helped them, and if they haven’t, I know you never meant to hurt someone. You’re still allowed to be _angry,_ Harry.”

He takes a short pause, because what he’s about to say is a _risk_.

“Just because Tom is gone,” when her eyes widen slightly, he presses on, “It doesn’t mean you’re the only one left to display fault. And it’s not. Your _fault_.”

It’s like something in Harry breaks, because she edges into him, shuffling her head into his chest and resting there as if her own personal pillow. There’s no crying, there’s no heavy sob he hears muffled into his clothing, but that’s almost _worse_ , no release. The only time he had seen tears was with Patrick, but Tony thinks that’s more due to shock and guilt for him then for her sake. That’s a whole other matter, and Tony doesn’t know what to do right now instead of just holding her, squeezing her tightly.

His mom once told him if you hug someone hard enough, all the unhappy thoughts spill out.

“Thank you,” Harry says after a little while, her head buried now into his neck, while his nose is scrunched into her hair. “Just… _thank you_.”

All Tony can do is press a deep kiss onto her forehead, and continue to try and squeeze out all the pain.

\----------------

Something has changed in Harry since their trip to the Junkyard.

Oh, he knows it’s not all of a sudden completely better. Harry’s not applied to star in _Disney_ , there’s no spring to her step and no animals are coming with her to take part in a five-minute song. But there’s a lightness in her shoulders now, as if there’s still some weight resting, but she’s managed to clear off some of the heaviness.

It’s freeing, knowing that anyone can cure their mind from twisted thoughts. It’s _liberating_ , seeing someone have the freedom to melt and know it hasn’t caused any permanent damage.

There might be some hope for him, too.

It surprisingly causes a good mood, even if the ache in his heart hasn’t subsided, no, that memory will forever be a heated brand marked in his mind. But there’s a set of happiness in him. He knows there’s hope, he knows the Junkyard Road Trip was a success.

But, in this day and age, things just go. Wrong.

Opening the door to their room is just the _weirdest shit_ , seeing as there’s an owl on the bed, a letter crushed in between the its beak.

Tony has No Energy for This Shit. He wants to make out with Harry for as long as he can (he wants to do more than that but that’s another subject entirely), possibly see a Superman sports bra somewhere during that time, with matching boxers if he’s _really_ lucky, but _nooooooooo_. There’s an _owl_. Holding a _letter_.

The Owl, upon seeing Harry, simply puts down the letter (he’s going with it, _it is what it is and he’s tired_ ), and flies _out the window_.

How can he get all magical things to a laboratory? He doesn’t want to _sell_ any ideas, he just wants to _know_ some stuff.

“Magic thing?” Is all that comes out. He thought he’d seen it all.

Nope.

“Magic thing. It’s my reply from Ron. About Molly.”

Tony unconsciously hunches his shoulders, something like disappointment blooming in the pit of his stomach.

It doesn’t last long.

“Sod it.” Tony whirls to where Harry stands, a firmness in her stance that he hasn’t seen in what feels like forever. She grabs the letter and throws it over her shoulder, not looking when it heavily thumps to the ground.

A heavy letter, then.

“I’m sensing some symbolism going on here.”

“Damn right you are.” Harry steps forward into Tony’s little bubble of personal space, taking his hand with the exact opposite treatment that heavy letter received. Her energy is bursting, the strength he associates with Harry firmly back in place. A success indeed.

“This- this was supposed to be us travelling! And I- I think I lost sight of that, when Patrick happened, when running from problems caught up. We’ve had fun- fun doesn’t even _begin_ to describe our time together- but we haven’t done what we sought out to do since then, to visit anywhere we want. I say we continue, if you’d like. We restart everything. I know this isn’t the best solution when it comes to dealing with issues. But I don’t want to stop going places with you. Fuck that letter, fuck who the letter’s about, I’m not reading it until I’m ready. I’m in control.”

“How ‘bout this,” Tony instantly says, the idea already blossoming in his head. “How about we _go everywhere_. I’m not kidding- you can teleport, or try to, and we only went around the _US_. Lame. No, I’m thinking we broaden our horizons. Egypt, Denmark, _Disneyland_ for all I care. And then when we both think the time is right, we stop. When we’re ready, we face our problems.”

Harry beams at him, something like adoration leaking from her features. “I would like that very much.” Then, more bashful, as if she’s never been allowed to _want_ , “I’ve always wanted to see the pyramids.”

“Done. First place we go. And then we can do…the northern lights sound pretty awesome. Ooh, or the Bermuda Triangle, can’t have any issues if you’re not on planet earth.”

“We could see _Paris_.”

“Japan.”

“Brazil!”

“Vegas!”

“We could buy postcards!”

“I could do the view thing!”

“The what?”

“You know,” he waves his hands animatedly, worked up in the best way possible, “You look at the view and go, ‘oh wow, so pretty,’ and I go, ‘yeah,’ because I’m looking at you. Then you look at me and I look at the view quickly to avoid you knowing I was staring, but you _know_. So yeah, the view thing.”

Harry’s smile slowly morphs into something smaller, softer. She places a hand on his cheek, her fingers idly brushing against his blush. “Nah, stare at the view. You’ll never forgive yourself if you ogle me in ratty jeans rather than the Bahamas.”

And oh.

 _Oh_.

Tony knows what love is. He feels a surge of love whenever the memory of his mom flashes through his mind and heart like a painful jolt of electricity. He reluctantly feels something whenever Howard is mentioned, but he won’t define what that emotion is, probably ever. He knows he loves Rhodey, loves him like he knows he would a sibling, a relationship that he made himself, a relationship that his best friend helped create.

But this is different.

When he told Harry all that time ago, when they were in a potential serial killers’ home stretched out on a warm bed, when he said she was _alright_ , he meant it. It was a feeling of the moment, something amazingly overwhelming that he _had_ to say it, he couldn’t not. But he wasn’t fully sure what it meant when he said it, only telling her something that made sense in their own language. But now, now he knows that he doesn’t love Harry, not how he loves Rhodey, his mother.

He is now aware, that without a doubt, he is in love with her.

And leaning in to kiss her, leaning in to close his eyes and take in the vibrating energy pulsing through him, he knows that wherever they go will simply be a background setting.

“I don’t know why you’d be wearing _jeans_ in the _Bahamas_ , but sure. Fine by me.”

_I’m in love with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i've changed MCU character entries y do u ask
> 
> i stan character growth n hopefully you agreed with how this growth plays out  
> Also hopefully it's in character- I really have always been interested in immediate post-war Harry, i've always saw him having a struggle with anger, so hopefully this is loyal to his character
> 
> psssst i luv u guuuuysssss

**Author's Note:**

> Thoooouuggghhhhhtssss??
> 
> Seriously any feedback is well received! My grammar is also atrocious so spell check me he who dares


End file.
